Finding your feet
by Pillow Bosom
Summary: What happens when the guy that was always helping others, doesn't know how to help himself?  -  M for Lemons and language. I don't own anything Hey Arnold.
1. Chapter 1

"_I got a surprise for you buddy, get your glad rags on, I'll be over in half an hour to pick you up."_

"Listen, Gerald, I'm not really in the m…"

"_Half an hour_." Gerald barked, quickly hanging up the phone before Arnold could protest.

"Fuck." Arnold murmured forlornly, dropping his cellphone into his lap and staring at it's stupid, accusing little screen. "FUCK."

… … …

"Arnold!" Gerald beamed as he stepped into the apartment. "Lookin' good!" He clapped Arnold on the shoulder, grinning.

"Don't patronise me." Arnold scowled.

"Fuck man, sorry." Gerald sighed. "Seriously though, good choice using the leg. That chair's a pain in the ass."

"Literally. Though the leg's a pain in the stump." Arnold sighed.

Gerald chuckled. "I'm not taking you out dancing or anything man, although it's been a long while since we've been cheek to cheek."

Arnold couldn't help it, that one made him laugh. "We can go dancing if you want, sweetheart." He fluttered his eyelashes. "But you'll have to lead."

"I always do." Gerald winked at him. "You ready to go? Show starts in twenty."

"Show? Sounds intriguing."

"Arnold my man, I'm telling you, you have _no _idea."

… … … …

Arnold groaned. "You bring me to an indie bar?"

Gerald laughed. "Hey, at least they'll think the cane's _ironic._"

"Oh god." Arnold gasped, a horrid, sudden thought popping into his head. "You didn't happen to meet some chick on Craigslist that has an amputee fetish or anything, did you?"

Gerald just laughed.

"No, seriously, I'm not fucking kidding. Don't think I've forgotten that you offered to buy me a hooker for an hour." Arnold stared, terrified that in an attempt to be kind, Gerald had done something humiliating.

"You should see your face. Relax Shortman, trust me, OK?" He sighed at Arnold's dubious facial expression. "What do you want to drink?"

"Shit, I dunno. A beer? Uh…" He hadn't had a drink in so long, he didn't know what he felt like.

"Leave it to me." Gerald sauntered off, ever confident, eyes following him across the room.

Arnold sighed, Fiddled with his cane, tried to make sure it was somewhere he could get at it easily, but out of sight of the casual observer.

He looked around the bar, trying to force himself to relax, to assuage his paranoia that everyone was looking at him funny. It was a small place, with a small stage in one corner where the gear for a four-piece band was set out. The bulk of the custom was near the stage, lounging on chairs and tables, but people milled around the bar, and at a table crowded with hipster-types.

Gerald put a bottle of beer down in front of him. "It's Japanese, I really like it."

"Thanks man. Next round's on me." Arnold took a sip as Gerald sat down.

"Band's about to start." The hum of conversation in the room dropped as the lights dimmed.

Spotlights lit up the small stage. "Uh, Hey. We're The Unnamed." The frontman smiled weakly. "Welcome to the seventh weekly open mic night here at The Tar Whistle." There was a smattering of applause. "Thanks… so, uh, we'll open with a couple of numbers, hopefully fuck a few things up, so no one else feels self conscious about stepping on stage. If you wanna come up and do a song or three, talk to Aaryn there, that handsome silver stag over there in the Tom Waits T shirt… he'll sign you up, and sort you out something to play on if you didn't have the forethought to bring your own gear… Alright, let's get on with this shit show."

They weren't bad. The drummer was decent, and the chick on bass was good… cute, too. Something about her was really familiar. He eyed her for a second, but couldn't place her. They were just playing covers, as far as he could tell. The lead vocalist leaned into the mic, gruffly crooning Paul Simon's _Graceland_. It was strangely appealing.

His eyes kept coming back to that girl though. She really was cute, her head nodding in time to the music as she walked her fingers across the strings. Her hair was short, cropped close, a reddish colour. He frowned… he must have met her at a party or something.

"Notice the chick on bass?" Gerald asked, nudging him with his elbow.

"Do we know her?" Arnold asked. "She looks really familiar."

Gerald chuckled, shaking his head. "I swear…" he trailed off, obviously wanting Arnold to figure out the mystery himself.

They finished up with _Graceland _and moved on to David Bowie's _Space Oddity._ Also strangely good… well, not as bad as he would have guessed.

He was more cynical than he used to be.

The girl bassist stepped up to the mic, "Last song from us, your turn next!" She grinned before plucking out a few notes on her bass. He _knew _that voice. He was sure of it.

The guitarist joined in softly, gently strumming, sweet, but sad notes, before the girl started singing.

_Are they saying goodbye_

_Or is it just like before_

_Could it be that I_

_Made him love her more_

_He_ _knew that voice… _He knew he did. She sounded amazing, soft and vulnerable, filled with heartache. He knew the song, by Ane Brun, and this girl definitely did the artist justice. He closed his eyes… this was _so annoying. _He knew that as soon as he figured out who this girl was, he would be kicking himself for not recognising her straight away.

_So I curse upon his face__  
><em>_He's a symbol of my own mistakes__  
><em>_Could it be that she _

_Makes me love him more_

He clapped along politely when the song finished and the girl thanked the audience. Her grin was wide, showing her teeth, her large eyes crinkled up in pleasure. He was driving himself crazy! The more he looked at her, the more he knew he knew her! And he had the feeling now that he really should have recognised her as soon as he had seen her, which was infuriating.

"You're not going to tell me who she is, are you?" He sighed, putting his empty down on the table and fishing in his pockets for his wallet, pulling out his card and ID and shoving them into his back pocket, not without difficulty.

"Honestly man, I am as-fucking-stounded you didn't pick her straight away."

"You're an ass. Same again?" Arnold struggled to his feet, using his hands to brace himself on his chair, stopping to check he had his balance before clutching at his cane and limping awkwardly over to the bar. The two empties in his free hand.

He kept an eye on the girl as he waited to be served, trying to figure out who she was. She _really _was cute. Her tight jeans clung to her curves when she bent over, her oversized top slipped down over her shoulder as she struggled with an amp. He averted his eyes, suddenly feeling like a bit of a perve.

By the time he got back to the table, she was drifting around the room, moving from group to group, probably trying to get people up on stage.

"I give up man, this is driving me nuts."

Gerald shook his head "It's not happening man, don't even try."

"Fuck." It was really starting to piss him off, not knowing who she was. Before, in an earlier life, he might have just walked over and asked her if he knew her. Sure, it sounded like a cheesy pick up line. "_Excuse me, but, do I know you?_" But was that a bad thing? He hadn't picked anyone up in ages, and this girl was definitely pleasing to the eye.

But that was then. He couldn't do that now, not now that he was a spaz. Not only would he be embarrassed as hell, he also ran the real physical risk of tripping over one of the chairs or something, and breaking a bone. Which could lead to being wheelchair bound. He didn't have the luxury of just milling about, or of even sitting up the front. That was the kind of shit no one told you when you lost a leg.

"Whoo, she's coming over!" Gerald crowed.

"Oh for fucks sake." Arnold murmured, his face hot. He just wanted to _leave._

"Gerald!" He heard her call, but he was too nervous to look up at her. "You came! Are you going to have a go?"

"I've got nothing prepared sorry Doll, maybe next time." Arnold could hear the change of timbre in Gerald's voice as spoke to the girl. Suave bastard could switch it on and off at will.

"What about you?"

Well, he had no choice now, she was talking directly to him. He looked up, met her gaze. She was prettier up close, a wide smile on her lips. When was the last time he had spoken to a girl outside of a store, or the hospital?

"I… uh… not this time." He managed to stutter.

Her face froze, her mouth open slightly, teeth glistening beneath her lips. She blinked.

"Arnold?"

That voice. _Football Head._

He studied her face. Large eyes, full lips, thick eyebrows that almost met in the middle. "Helga?"

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

**So, that's the first chapter… ah!**

**Ok, for the songs they played, YouTube videos:**

**Graceland: .com/watch?v=HvliMzAFWHM**

**Space Oddity: .com/watch?v=D67kmFzSh_o**

**Are They Saying Goodbye: .com/watch?v=KL5ImFThWZE**


	2. Chapter 2

Her face slowly spread into a grin as she raked her eyes up and down him.

"I can't fucking believe it." She gasped. "Arnold fucking Shortman."

He smiled, despite himself. The look on her face was classic. Weirdly, he was a little less nervous. _It's just Helga. _No use trying to impress a girl he'd known since he was a kid.

"Hey Pataki."

She glanced around the room. "I gotta keep doing the rounds for another ten. Are you guys hanging around?"

"I know I am." Gerald started talking before Arnold could even formulate an answer. "Pretty sure Arnold's free to stay too, aren't ya?"

Arnold just gulped. What the fuck was Gerald trying to do? "Uh… yeah… I mean…" He forced himself to look up at where Helga was smiling expectantly down at him. "I can stay a bit longer, if you wanna catch up?"

She grinned. "I'll be back." Before she moved back into the main part of the bar.

Arnold turned to Gerald. "What are you playing at?"

Gerald shook his head, tutting. "Didn't you see how she looked at you man? I was here last week, she didn't want to get all cosy with _me!_"

Arnold frowned. "Who says I wanna get cosy with _her?_ That's Helga fucking _Pataki._"

"She grew up nice, huh?" Gerald grinned, leaning back in his chair. He sighed when Arnold just glared at him. "Look man, I've seen her more recently than you. I saw her quite a bit after she moved to Florida, because of Phoebe and everything. She isn't the same nasty bitch she was when she left."

"It's not just that." Arnold slumped his shoulders. "It's… I mean… my leg and everything…" He stammered. How could he tell Gerald how he was feeling, when he could barely figure out himself?

"What about it?" Gerald raised an eyebrow at him.

"I… I can't… I mean… She can't see…" Arnold was tongue-tied. Why was Gerald doing this to him?

"Ah-ha! I knew it!" Gerald crowed. "You _do _like the look of her!" His grin was wide. "I thought you might. I'm gonna let you in on a secret, Shortman… that leg don't mean shit compared to your self-conscious bullshit."

_Ouch._ That stung, but Gerald kept going.

"I've been reading up on this, and I know that it's the psychological shit that'll end up screwing your life up, not the leg itself. Fuck man, I'm worried about you." Gerald took a breath before continuing, in a softer voice. "I'm not asking you to fuck her or anything. I just want you to _talk_ to a girl, so you can finally fucking realise that just because you lost a leg, it doesn't mean the death of your, uh, romantic life."

Arnold didn't know what to think. "Uh, thanks? I think?" He took a long gulp of his beer. Gerald was setting him up… with _Helga _of all people. Although, his friend did have a point, she seemed totally different to the bossy cow she used to be. "That was quite a, uh, speech."

"Been practising." Gerald grinned, tapping Arnold's beer bottle with his own. "It's just Pataki, there's no need to stress."

Arnold sighed. "How… um, how do you think I should tell her? Or, should I just want, till she sees the cane or something?"

Gerald shrugged "If it comes up in conversation, then go with it. Don't force it… and for fucks sake, stop thinking about it like it's your defining feature. So you're missing a leg, who gives a fuck? It's not as massive as you think it is."

"Not to you." Arnold moped.

"No, not to me, and not to anyone else. Stop focussing on it. Seriously. Focus instead on the cute little redhead that wants to _hang out _with you." He winked.

"I suppose she is a redhead now, huh?" He twisted in his seat to look at her, bending over a table of guys, most of them wearing sunglasses… in a bar… at night… _ I might be a cripple, but at least I'm not a douchebag. _

Ten minutes later she came back up to the table. "Phew, all done." She grinned. "I hate that _mix n mingle _shit. Can I get you guys a drink?" She held up her glass, empty but for a few ice cubes.

"You sit down, it's my round." Gerald stood up, "What can I get ya?"

She sat down gracefully in his seat, smiling still. Arnold couldn't remember her smiling this much ever. "Um, a GnT would be great, thanks."

"So, Arnold…" She beamed "This is so surreal! It's been what, ten years since I saw you last?" She leaned forward in her chair, putting her elbow on the table. His eyes followed the sweep of her collarbone, the line of her neck.

He thought for a second. "Something like that. You left in 8th grade, yeah?"

She nodded, her eyes searching his face. He shifted a little under her gaze.

"So, what have you been doing over the past decade?" He leaned back in his chair, stretched his good leg out.

She shrugged. "Miriam and I moved in with her aunt in Florida, but you probably already know that. I finished school, got a full scholarship to Berkeley, graduated top of my class, worked my ass off, and now I work as a freelance writer, proof-reader, editor, critic, what-have-you…" She shrugged. "I'm living just a few blocks from here, with Olga."

"Wow Helga… you've… you've really changed."

She just laughed. "What about yourself, Mister Shortman? Saving the world yet?"

"Not even in the slightest." He took a swig of his near-empty beer. "Graduated from Hillwood, got my degree in Fine Arts at Yale, a Masters at Rhode Island… now I'm a starving artist, eking out a living on commissions and call centre work."

"I heard about your grandparents… I'm sorry." Helga nudged his good leg with her toe. "What's happened to the boarding house?"

"It's still going. I couldn't bring myself to sell it… even though I could _really _do with the money. There's a couple managing it for me. I've been thinking about moving back."

Helga nodded. "So, I'm sure I would have heard if you'd gotten hitched, but asides from that… any _personal _news? Come out of the closet or fathered a love child or anything?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "No, no kids as far as I know. Straight and single." He narrowed his eyes at her, she was smirking. "What about you, Pataki…"

"Single… no kids." Her mouth twitched up at the corners. "I cannot believe I am sitting here, with Arnold Shortman."

"Formally known as Football Head."

She laughed. "Yes… formally known as Football Head."

She was _so _different. That edge of nervous anger she had always had was gone. She asked questions and made jokes. Sure, her sense of humour definitely had a bite to it, but it was just funny, not nasty like how she used to be. He liked it…

"I hope you two don't mind, but there's someone over there I'd like to go talk to." Gerald put their drinks down in front of them.

"Blonde or brunette?" Arnold asked, nodding his thanks for the drink.

"Brunette. Tall, too. Be good, kiddies." He laughed before making his way over to the other side of the room.

Silence.

Helga had her straw between her lips, sipping on her drink, her eyes lowered. Arnold took a swig of his beer, realising that she knew what Gerald was trying to do… he felt his cheeks start to burn.

"Do you paint?" She asked finally, looking up at him through her eyelashes, a coy, shy look that made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

He swallowed. "Um, yeah. I mostly work in charcoals and pastels, but I have been known to dabble in acrylics." He wished the drinks would kick in, make him feel less nervous… but nothing seemed to be happening. Strange.

"Are you working on anything at the moment?" She crossed her legs, her foot grazing across his good calf as she moved.

He faltered. "Uh, no… not really."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why not?"

He shrugged. "Artists block?"

"Oh god, I know what that's like. It's the _worst._" She shuddered. "I was halfway through a novel, and _poof_, nothing. Not even another sentence." She sighed. "I've tried everything, but nothing works. It's the pits."

He struggled to find something to say. He hadn't put pencil to paper since his accident… but he couldn't tell her that. "What's the novel about?"

She laughed. "You really wanna know?" He nodded, grateful not to have to talk. "You can't laugh at me, OK?"

"Promise."

"OK. Well, do you know anything about synaesthesia?..." a half hour later, he was trying to explain to her how having she could solve a plot hole by having two inhabitable bands around a larger planet, with a thicker atmosphere and a horizontal rotational axis.

She had grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the bar, and he was sketching out how light would hit the earth, creating a habitable area on a planet that would still support her other plot devices.

"Jesus, that's clever. How do you know this shit?" She asked, sliding the piece of paper out from beneath his fingers and examining it.

He shrugged. "I find it interesting."

"Well, you're a godsend, that's for sure." She smiled at him, looking up at him again.

"I… uh…" _Oh god… what do I do? _Desires warred within him. He wanted to make a move, he really did. There was a big part of him that didn't care that this girl was _Helga Pataki, _it just acknowledged that she was cute and sweet and highly fuckable. Another part of him, however, was far to embarrassed to let him be exposed to a woman. He could barely look at himself, how could he expect anyone else to touch him?

"Can I get you another drink?" he asked finally. Instantly mentally slapping himself. Going to the bar would mean getting up, using his cane in front of her. He already needed to piss, but was putting it off, hoping she would leave or something before he _really _needed to go.

She shook her head. "Nah, two is plenty enough for me." She hesitated. "I, uh, I was going to head home soon… if you wanted to walk me or something?"

He just kinda gaped, completely lost for words.

She shifted. "You don't have to or anything… I… uh…" She blushed, looked away, her eyes scanning the room. _Probably looking desperately for a way to get away from me._

"I want to." Arnold said softly. "I, uh, I do. But I can't. I'm sorry… I…" He trailed off.

She turned back to him. "You can't?"

"I, shit… I can't walk that far."

She just stared at him. "I don't get it."

"I… I had an accident a few months back… I hurt my leg…" He could feel his heart thumping harder. He had no idea how to put this.

"What happened?" she asked, her forehead creasing… "I mean… are you OK?" Her eyes ran down to his legs, looking at them properly. He watched her face, saw her notice that something wasn't quite right. His toe of his left 'foot' didn't sit quite naturally on the ground, his 'knee' looked strangely thin beneath his jeans. "Is… is that a cane?" she asked softly, her face full of concern.

He sighed. _Well, that was nice while it lasted. _"I… um… I was helping a friend move, I was between the trailer and the back of his car while I was getting a box out of the boot. Someone ran up the back of the trailer, and, um, crushed my leg." He shrugged.

She flopped back into her chair, staring at him. "Fuck." She whispered. "Are you… like… how bad?" She held her hands up, in a futile gesture.

"Bad enough." He tried to smile, but felt like throwing his bottle against the wall. _FUCK THIS SHIT._ "This, uh…" he tapped his left 'knee', "is a prosthetic."

She stared. "I'm so sorry Arnold… I didn't mean…" she faltered.

"It's OK." He shrugged. It wasn't OK though, he wanted to rage. It was _so fucking unfair_ that he couldn't even walk a pretty girl home.

"So you can't really walk?" He hated the look on her face, pity… ugh.

"I can… I mean, I will… I'm just not very steady, and this thing rubs… I mean… I…"

She just nodded. "A friend of mine is in a wheelchair. Fucking thing rubs him raw, poor bastard." She sighed. "Are you still in Physical Therapy?"

He blinked. "Uh, yeah."

She smiled. "So you aren't sick or anything… you just can't hobble the four blocks to my place?"

Arnold frowned. He couldn't tell if she was taking the piss, or was just flippant. "Yeah… aside from being a cripple, I'm healthy as an ox."

She grinned, leaning back forwards. "Wanna taxi then?"


	3. Chapter 3

"_Oh my god Arnold!" Helga gasped as she lay below him "Yes, fuck me, please, ohmygod!" Her breasts, slick with sweat, bounced as he pounded into her, her eyes gazed into his, her hands grasped at his back. "Fuck, yes, yes, YES!"_

Arnold groaned, came, his hips jerked, he swore. He opened his eyes. The digital clock next to his bed declared brightly that it was 04:13am. He sighed, kicked his covers back with his good leg and sat up. Leaning over, he groped at the floor till he found a discarded T shirt. After using it to clean himself off, he lobbed it into the corner and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

It had been three days since he had told Helga he couldn't go home with her, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. Was he just kicking himself for giving up probably the only chance at sex he'd ever get? Or was it more than that? Did he actually _like _her?

It was hard to know… he was so fucking messed up, he had no idea how to figure out what he was feeling. Except that he was lonely… that bit he knew. Lonely and ashamed of himself. Not the greatest combination.

So now he was just reduced to a pathetic, lonely man. Jerking off in the middle of the night over fantasies of _what might have been. _What's worse… in those fantasies, he had both his legs.

Gerald hadn't been much help… he just couldn't understand why Arnold had said no. How could he explain? Sure, Helga was pretty, sweet, funny, smart… but _he_ was a _cripple. _He couldn't bear to see her face if she touched his… stump. He didn't want her to be revolted by him. He wanted to lie with her, kiss her, touch her… but he didn't want to be touched, he didn't want her to _see _him.

How the hell was he even supposed to deal with the leg? He couldn't just whip it off all nonchalant. He couldn't make her do it! And, if they _did _end up having sex… how was he even supposed to do it? It's not like he could be on top…

Even more basically than that… putting the damn thing on was a pain. What if he needed to piss in the middle of the night? At home, he just used his crutches, but it's not like he could just sneak off at her place. He'd have to turn a light on, wake her. The whole ordeal would just be humiliating.

Maybe once he could walk by himself better. When he didn't have to spend every waking moment scanning for hazards. When he could have both his hands free when he wanted to kiss a girl goodnight.

Maybe then.


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck this." Gerald threw the Xbox controller down and stood up off the sofa. "I'm sick of this. Get dressed, we're going out." On screen, his car careened off the track, hit the barrier and went spinning down the shoulder.

Arnold baulked. "What?" He asked dumbly.

Gerald sighed. "You heard me. Get up. I'm fucking sick of you moping around, all depressed and crap because you have no life… well, fuck that. Get up. We're going back to the Tar Whistle."

"Gerald… I… I don't…"

"LOOK." Gerald barked. "There's a little redhead girl there who's cute as a motherfucking button, and for some unknown reason, seems to think you're alright. You're going to go flirt with her. End of story."

"I can't…"

"Yes you can. Get up."

"But…"

"Get up."

"I just…"

"Get up." Gerald glared at him. "Get up, get up, get up."

Arnold just sat there, staring. Where had _this _come from? It had been _months _since that night… he hadn't been back to the bar since then… that said, he hadn't been _anywhere_ but work and the hospital since then…

"OK, you might have a point."

"Good. Get up."

He sighed, grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the arm of the couch. "Could we maybe go somewhere else? I don't know if…"

"No. I've seen Helga like, five times since then, and every time, she just asks about you. Fuck knows why… but you're going to go talk to her. Now _get up_."

… … …

She wasn't on the stage when they got there. A guy-n-gal hippy duo were strumming their guitars and singing in high voices… Helga's set must have already been over.

The place was more crowded than it had been the first time Arnold was there. People milled around the stage, the bar… all of the tables were full.

Arnold followed gingerly behind Gerald, watching carefully to make sure he didn't fall over. _My first time out of the house without the cane… _A little part of him was proud… a large part of him was nervous.

He was so engrossed in making sure he didn't face-plant that he didn't register what was going on until he heard Gerald's voice.

"Pataki!" He crowed. Arnold looked up to see Helga in his arms, smiling.

"Good evening, Gerald." She grinning, squirming out of his hug. "You missed an _awesome _Lionel Ritchie rendition."

He laughed. "Of course I did… I always miss the best ones. You remember my friend, Arnold?"

And he was caught. She was _right there, _smiling at him. "I'm not sure… was he at the Joneses lake house last summer?" She asked, her eyes twinkling.

Arnold's tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, he desperately scrambled for something to say.

"Hi, Arnold." She grinned, and before he knew it, her arms were around his neck. For just a moment, she was pressed against his chest, his hand was on her back, he could smell her.

It never failed to amaze him, how _good _girls could smell.

He swayed when she pulled away, he clutched at her arm. "Wait." He gasped softly.

Her eyes widened, worried… "Sorry." He could feel his cheeks burning. He took a second to make sure he wasn't about to tumble over. "I, uh, wasn't quite balanced." He let go of her… he couldn't quite meet her gaze. _Smooth. Very smooth… Jesus._

"No cane huh? Very impressive, Shortman." She smiled. "Your brunette's here." She said, turning to Gerald. "I saw her over by the stage a few minutes ago… alone."

Gerald let out a low whistle. "Gimme a sec, I gotta get a drink. You want anything?"

"No thanks." Helga held up a half-full glass.

"Same as last time?" He asked Arnold.

"Yeah, thanks." Nerves were twisting his stomach into a ball. Gerald was just gonna waltz off? He should have known.

Helga smiled, nudged Arnold with her elbow. "How do your pins cope with stairs?"

"Uh… OK. I mean, I can climb a flight or two, but I'm no Rocky… why?"

"I was gonna go up to the VIP room, it's quieter there. You wanna come?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "VIP room?"

She laughed. "It's a joke. There's a weird little room upstairs that we've just started using. It gets too hectic down here."

"You don't have to do your hostess rounds?"

She shrugged. "Already done."

He shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't really know what to say. He worried that she felt like she had to babysit him… He worried that she might come on to him again, and that he'd have to say no again… but then he also worried that she _wouldn't._

She sighed. "C'mon… come keep me company while I sit in a cupboard. I _hate it _down here."

"Well, how can I say no to that?"

"That's the spirit." She smiled, doing that thing where she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. _Jesus._

…

"No, seriously… it was _huge!"_ Arnold held his hands apart, grinning. "It was just the _worst _timing. You should have seen the guys face when he realised what was going on!" Helga's hand was over her mouth, her eyes crinkling in mirth as he told her the story. "I don't think I've _ever _seen Rhonda so angry… she _actually _thought he was telling her to… to…."

She waved a hand at him. "I get the picture. Don't get all _Lady Chatterley _on me." She grinned, her knees drawn up to her chin as she sat opposite Arnold. The VIP room really was just a large closet with a few chairs, a window, and a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was kinda nice though. A few people had come and gone, but Helga and Arnold had claimed the best chairs, and had been sitting together for the better part of two hours.

Helga had slipped off her shoes, her bare feet were on the seat. He kept finding himself looking at them, unable to look at her face. Her toenails had been painted, but most of it had chipped off, just leaving a few flakes of purple behind.

"So…" She leaned forward, her chin cupped in her hand. "… managed to work on your artists block at all?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. You?"

"Yeah, actually. Got another chapter under my belt. I've been pretty busy with work though, so I haven't been able to work on it as much as I'd like."

"That's great!" He took a swig of his beer… his fourth beer… he was feeling it this time.

"Well, I have you to thank for the inspiration!" She beamed. "You're a lifesaver, with your nerdy planet knowledge."

He didn't know what to say… So apparently blurting out an apology was the best course of action. "About… about last time…" He stammered, "I'm sorry… you know… I didn't mean to…"

She just smiled. "Sorry, Arnold… I don't mean to interrupt, but it's fine. You don't have to explain yourself. I'm sorry for, uh, coming on so strong. If you're not interested, you're not interested. I should have taken the hint the first time you said no."

She took a long sip of her drink, her eyes focussing past his shoulder, a blush creeping up her neck. She was uncomfortable… or was she upset? He couldn't tell anymore, he'd lost his ability to read people.

"ButI _was _interested!" he blurted. "That's what I'm trying to say… I mean… I didn't want to make you feel bad or anything, or like you did the wrong thing." He sighed. "I… just wasn't ready… with my leg and everything…" he trailed off.

She nodded, slowly. "I suppose I can understand that. I don't know how I'd feel about showing other people my body if it had changed so dramatically and I hadn't gotten used to it yet."

Arnold was shocked into silence. She actually sounded like she understood. She didn't look at him like he was being stupid or vain… It was the very first time that he hadn't felt judged for not being the plucky, brave kid who faced adversity with a hearty laugh.

She looked at him… waiting for him to say something. Smiling when he just stared at her. "Look, Arnold. I don't care about your leg. I asked you to my place because we got along and you're hot. I wasn't planning on screwing you… nor had I ruled it out. It was just a suggestion, you didn't break my heart and I don't hate you." She grinned. "You don't have to worry about it, OK?"

"OK…" He parroted. He didn't know he felt about that… but then, he didn't know how he felt about anything anymore.

"Feel free not to answer this…" she said softly "but… have you been with anyone… since…" She waved a hand at his legs.

He shook his head.

"Shit." She sighed. "That sucks."

He laughed. "You're telling me!" His smiled died quickly. "It's not like I don't _want _to… I mean… I'm, uh, I'm not paralysed or anything." He smiled ruefully. "Since I was sponge bathed in hospital, you're the closet I've come to having… uh… _relations _with a woman."

Helga giggled. "Sponge baths, huh?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did they, you know… give you a happy ending?" Her grin was cheeky.

He groaned, laughing despite himself. "No, they're all very professional. I'm just glad I was on such strong painkillers… I was too doped up to, uh, embarrass myself… thankfully."

She laughed. "Oh dear… you poor thing." She sighed, smiled.

He shrugged. "There are things I miss more than just fucking though." He found himself saying. She said nothing, just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "I dunno… I mean… I just kinda miss contact, you know?"

"Just… cuddles?" She asked, her face falling, her eyes full of sympathy.

He nodded, feeling suddenly stupid. "Sorry… didn't mean to get so… share-y." he smiled weakly at her.

She stood up. "Shift over." She murmured. He moved, pressing his bad leg against the arm of the armchair. _Oh god… is she really going to…_

She climbed on top of him, nestled herself into him so that her bum was basically on the seat, but her thighs were over his, her calves pressed against his fake knee.

"Helga… I… uh…" He stammered, anxious… bordering on terrified.

"You comfy?" she asked. He nodded. "Then shut up." She murmured, and put her arms around him. She lay her head on his shoulder and sighed. "You smell good." She whispered.

"Likewise." He rasped. He didn't know what to do with his hands. They just sort of lay all useless on the arms of the chair. He could feel himself _stirring. _He hadn't been this close to a girl in forever. _Let alone a girl I actually like._ He caught himself… _Oh god. _He liked her. He genuinely liked Helga Pataki. _Shit. _

"You can cuddle me back, you know." She whispered, wiggling a little, pressing herself closer.

Tentatively, he brought his hands up. One ran up her leg, lightly held on to her thigh, just above her knee…. The other curled around her back, found her ribs. She murmured - a sweet, heart-melting little noise – and relaxed against him.

His heart was thundering in his chest. He wanted to relax, he wanted to slouch down into the chair, pull her to him and curl up with her… but he was wound up too tight. He was too nervous. He was so sexually frustrated, so touch deprived, that instead of being able to enjoy the moment for what it was, he was just paranoid he'd ruin it somehow.

As if she could read his mind, Helga shifted. "Are you OK with this?" she asked softly. He nodded. Her mouth curled up into a smile, "Relax, then… I'm not going to bite you."

"It's… It's just been…" The words stuck in his throat. Her face softened.

"What are you afraid of?" _Straight to the point._

He shrugged. "That I'll do something to piss you off."

She chuckled. "I'll make you a promise. As long as you're not actively a dick to me, I'll give you cuddles for as long as you want them, OK?"

"OK."

She put her head back on his shoulder.

…

"Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"You smell _really _good."


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh my _god!" _Helga threw her arm across her eyes and groaned. "This is _so bad_"

Arnold chucked. "I didn't know Darth Maul had been banished to _the other."_

"You always choose the _worst _movies_. _I told you we should have watched TopGun."

"I thought you were joking! What kind of girl likes _TopGun?" _Arnold scoffed.

Helga Huffed, twisting her neck to look up at him. "_TopGun, _Arnold, is a classic. Not like this _Insidious _bullshit." She stretched a little, wriggled, obviously restless. Her head lay on his good thigh and she rolled onto her back, her eyes on his face.

She sighed, pointedly.

"Aright Pataki, I'll take the hint. What do you wanna do?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

"So keep watching the movie."

"I don't _wanna _watch the movie!"

"Fuck you're a brat." He grinned. "Does the little princess want a coffee?"

She glared. "Don't call me that. Ummmm… I dunno, I can't be bothered moving."

"You're not in a good mood, are you?"

"I'm fine! I'm just restless, and tired. It's been a long week."

They sat silent for a minute, the movie still playing on his TV, but neither of them watching it.

"Do you wear your leg all the time?" She asked suddenly.

_Oh, she's in one of _those _moods. Alright. _"Uh, no… is it _ask Arnold awkward questions _time again?"

She grinned. "You can ask them back! Let's play Truth!"

"Oh god."

She grinned. "You love it. OK, so do you just take it off to sleep, or what?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I tend to take it off whenever I can. It's not the most comfortable apparatus."

"So why don't you take it off now?"

"No, it's my turn." She huffed, but he ignored her, thinking for a minute. "What made you and Miriam move to Florida?"

"She found out Bob was sleeping with someone else. It was the last straw, thankfully." She answered without missing a beat. "So… why don't you take your leg off now?"

"Because you're here."

"That's not enough of an answer."

"It'll have to do."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know I don't care about your stupid leg, right?"

He shrugged. "I care." He continued before she could start trying to talk about it further. "What's the worst thing you've done while you were drunk?"

She laughed. "Surprisingly enough, Shortman, I've never been a big drinker… having a wreck of an alcoholic mother will do that to you. I think just vomiting copiously into a friends garden and telling a guy I liked that I liked him is probably the worst I've done."

"Dammit." He braced himself for the next _leg _question.

"Tell me about the first time you had sex." She took his hand, which was resting on her stomach, and brought it up to her face.

He hesitated, worried. He didn't like to divulge stuff like that, when it was about other people… and he could feel her breath on his palm, which was making his head cloud up a little.

"Just the basics." He said, a little slowly. "It was Jenny Tanner, in her room, and I think we were both fifteen."

"Jenny _Tanner_? Really?" Helga grinned. "I wouldn't have picked it." Her lips brushed the base of his finger as she talked. _Shit._

"Yeah, well, she kind of accosted me. Apparently she had liked me for ages, but it never happened again." Arnold sighed. "It was pretty tragic, really."

"Oh, I _so _have my next question already. Quick, have your turn." She was grinning.

"Uhhh…" He thought for a second. He didn't really know what to ask. Helga was looking up at him, his hand covering most of her face. Gently, she put her teeth to the side of his index finger and bit down slightly.

He started to panic a little, _what is she doing? _"Hurry uuuuup." she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Uh. Why were you so mean to me when we were little?" He blurted out the first question that popped into his head.

She blinked at that, and, mercifully, took his hand from her face. She then, however, placed his palm on her chest, his palm on her collarbones, his fingers on her neck. Her skin was soft…

He tried to concentrate.

"Pull out the big guns, huh?" She grinned. "I've wondered the same thing, over the years." She paused, bit her lip. "OK… there were a few reasons actually, if you can cope with me being emo for a minute?"

"What's new?"

"Har har." She rolled her eyes. "Uh… firstly, I suppose, you were that guy that _liked _everyone… I suppose I was kinda scared that I would be the only person you didn't _like _if you actually got to know me, so I never let you get to know me." She shrugged, her shoulders pressing against his jeans. "Morose, I know… but I wasn't exactly the most well adjusted kid."

She took a breath. "Umm, secondly, you only ever really paid attention to me if you were angry at me, or if you felt sorry for me, which really pissed me off. I suppose I wanted you to pay attention to me because you found me interesting, or something…" She took another breath, averting her eyes from his and smiling a little, "… and the only reason either of those mattered was because I had a massive crush on you."

Arnold snorted. "No you didn't."

"Uh, yeah I did." Her face was blushing a deep red. "You know how kids are, being mean to the person they like." She grinned. "I thought you were _lovely… _I mean, I wasn't wrong, you are… but I wasn't exactly emotionally equipped to deal with the ramifications of telling you straight up that I wanted to have your babies."

"You babble when you're embarrassed." Arnold laughed.

"And you stutter, don't be mean." She poked her bottom lip out.

"Alright, your turn." Arnold smiled at her, laughing inside his own head. He had always kind of suspected that she might have _liked him - liked him_. Now he knew.

"Did you ever make it with Lila?" Her grin was wicked. He laughed.

"Nope, not even close."

"What about with Ruth McDougal?"

He laughed harder at that one. "Jesus, I haven't thought about her in years…" He let his thumb stroke down her collarbone. She closed her eyes.

_Shit._

"Your turn." She mumbled, her fingers were on his wrist.

"Uh…." He looked at her. "Did you ever succumb to peer pressure and, uh, groom your eyebrows?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Arnold!" she gasped. "You'd dare poke fun at my _eyebrows?_ I'm _wounded!"_

"I… I'm sorry! I didn't think…"

She laughed. "Ha! PSYCHE!" She grinned. "Yeah, I clean them up a little." She stroked one with a finger. "But when I first moved to Florida, though, this big dumb jock, a guy by the name of Marcus Bredder, told me that I'd be hot if it wasn't for that _gross monobrow._ I vowed to never make them 'perfect'… don't want the Bredder's of the world finding me attractive." She beamed. "You can touch them, if you like."

The big stupid grin on her face was enough to make him laugh, but when she started trying to egg him on… "C'mon Shortman, It's OK… they're so soft and luxurious…" He totally cracked up.

"You're…" he gasped "you're such a weirdo."

She clambered to her knees, shifting round to kneel beside him. "You'll like it, I promise…" She was nudging her forehead into his chest, one hand on his shoulder, the other braced against the back of the sofa. "How can something so natural be so wrong?" she wailed, throwing her head back.

"Oh my god you _freak!_" He was laughing so hard his stomach started to hurt. "_Fine_, I'll give in to temptation… c'mere." He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugged her forward.

She froze, her eyes on his, a sly smiled on her face. "Go on… do it…" she whispered, making him snort with laughter.

Tentatively, he raised his other hand to her face. "I don't know… what if someone finds out?" He asked in a hushed voice.

Her mouth twitched, struggling to keep her composure. "I won't tell if you don't."

He ran his finger across her left eyebrow. He groaned dramatically. "I… I never knew…" He smirked.

"There's nothing like the first time." She grinned back at him, "You'll remember it forever." Her gaze darted from his eye to his mouth. She shifted a little, her lips parted. He tried to smile, suddenly terrified. She was so _close_. His hand was still around her waist, one good tug and she'd fall into him, her chest against his. He could just grab her… if he had the balls.

"Your turn." He tried to stop his voice from wavering.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

He nodded, dumbstruck.

"Are you going to?"

He shook his head. She sighed.

"But you want to?"

He nodded.

She leaned forward. He could feel her back arching as she moved towards him. He couldn't do anything, he didn't know what to think. More than _anything, _he wanted to kiss her… but then what?

She stopped, her mouth a hair's width from his, close enough to feel her breath on his lips. Involuntarily, his fingers gripped her waist. A thousand images flew into his head, a thousand questions. What would she taste like? Would she feel the same as he had imagined she would? Would she move the same?

"May I?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. He could feel her shaking slightly. He nodded.

She pressed her lips to his. Softly, briefly. A mere moment of pressure against him, and she pulled away.

"Your turn." She breathed, a tiny smile on her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

"And with that… I best be leaving." Helga grinned, passed Arnold the Xbox controller and stood up. "Enjoy the bitter taste of defeat, _motherfucker."_

Gerald laughed. "Enjoy the sweet taste of my ass, more like."

"That's disgusting, Johanssen." Helga pulled a face, laughing. Arnold was used to their insulting banter by now, they both seemed to have a much higher abuse tolerance than he did.

"I'll call you about car arrangements and stuff for Friday night, OK?" She ruffled her fingers through Arnold's hair.

"Sure." He smiled up at her. "You OK to get home?"

"As always, Shortman, yeah, I'll be fine." She grinned, bent down to kiss him briefly on the cheek, and left the apartment. "Don't suck too much without me!" She called, a parting shot as she closed the door.

Gerald laughed. "How do you suppose a girl without so much as a PC got so good at gaming?"

Arnold shrugged. "She's just competitive, I guess."

"That's an understatement." Gerald stretched out. "You two _done it_ yet?"

Arnold grimaced. "No. You know we haven't. Stop it."

"Aw man, that's messed up."

"We… I mean… it isn't like that…" Arnold stammered. They didn't even kiss every time they saw each other. They had only _made out _once, and he had stopped it, stuttering apologies, when she had started moving against him, rolling her hips and stuff… he had freaked out, backed off… but she had been OK with it, as always.

"She's _all over you!" _Gerald sneered. "Sometimes I wanna tell you guys to get a fucking room… always cuddling up to you and shit. If she isn't interested in getting into the Shortman's shorts… then I'm a monkey's fucking uncle."

Arnold shrugged. "She doesn't try to stick her hands down my pants or anything, does she?"

Gerald paused for a second. "Well… not that I've seen. But you guys hang out _a lot _without me around."

"Is _that _what this is? Are you jealous?" Arnold held his arms open. "C'mere Gerald, come have a cuddle. I still wuv you." He grinned.

"Fuck off." Gerald threw a pillow at him. He sighed. "Seriously man, you should ask her what the deal is."

"Leave it man. It's fine the way it is."

"Really? How long do you think she'll be OK with having a surrogate boyfriend that won't get her off?"

Arnold baulked. _"_You don't think I worry about that enough?" He grimaced, closed his eyes. "Shit man… you think I don't know that she's fucking _awesome, _and I'm just some stupid fucking _cripple_ that can't… ah, fuck it."

Gerald sat up straight. "Hey, look, I'm sorry man… I wasn't trying to say that…"

"It's OK." Arnold put a hand up to stop him. "I get it. You think I don't get it? But what the fuck can I do about it?"

…

He lay awake that night, worrying. It had been… about four months since he and Helga had started hanging out… about two months since that night that she first kissed him. Was Gerald right? Was that too long to go without trying to make a real move? Would she get bored and move on? He had always had that fear in the back of his mind, but to have someone else say it out loud? He couldn't avoid it anymore.

Try as he might, he couldn't get that thought out of his head. He _couldn't _give her everything a _normal _boyfriend could give her. He wanted to, badly, but he just _couldn't_.

He couldn't even take off his leg if she was going to be around. He couldn't stomach the thought of her seeing him on his crutches, his cut-off track pants pinned up under his _stump._

How could he ever really be her boyfriend if he was too afraid to ever really relax around her? Sure, there was a chance he might get over it, one day… but he had no right to expect her to wait that long…

So what could he do?


	7. Chapter 7

"You should ask me to dance." Helga put her hand on his knee, grinned at him with her perfectly painted lips.

He stared at her. "Yeah, me, dance… real funny, Pataki." He leaned away from her a little, crossed his arms. His eyes just roved around the room, looking anywhere but at the woman next to him.

"I… I wasn't…" Helga took a breath. "I mean, we could wait for a slow song?" Her voice was small, taken aback. Instantly, he felt mean, which made him feel guilty, which made him hate himself just that little bit more.

Arnold used to love dancing. His grandmother had taught him all the old ones. The waltz, the cha-cha, the foxtrot. He could even tango, back when he could dip a woman without falling on his face.

He just sat there, his fake leg stiff in front of him, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He _should_ have been having a great night, he knew. An NY based paper had asked Helga to cover the premiere of the Seattle Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, and they had experienced the night on the paper's tab… but he just couldn't get into it. He was too fucking shitty.

He sighed. "Look, I really don't want to dance, for obvious reasons, OK?" He gestured out to where everyone else was having a great old time. "You go though, if you want, I don't mind."

She gaped at him for a second. "Um…" She glanced around the room, looking like she was about to cry. He felt bad for her, but more than anything, he wanted her away from him. He was sick of having her so close and friendly, reminding him that he couldn't do everything with her that she wanted… that _he _wanted to do.

She stood. "Actually, I think I might just get going, I'm not really feeling it." She couldn't look at his face. "I don't have to cover the social stuff, so my obligation to the paper is fulfilled. Are you ready to leave?" She sounded clipped, prim… like she was trying desperately not to let emotion in to her voice.

"Best idea you've had all night." He sounded way more petulant than he had meant to. She just nodded and started walking off, not waiting for him to struggle out of his seat.

She looked great, he had to admit, in high heels and tight leather pants. But that thought just made him angrier. He watched her round, leather-clad ass sway as she walked, and knew he would be too much of a pussy to let her know how much she turned him on.

He was so full of self-loathing that he thought he might burst.

She was standing out on the footpath when he caught up to her, her jaw clenched as she showed her little press pass to the valet. He spoke into a walkie talkie, and a few seconds later, a car pulled up.

"Would you like to come over?" She asked, as he slid awkwardly into the seat next to her, her gaze locked on his mouth, not his eyes.

_And what? NOT fuck you some more? _"No, thanks. I should probably just go home."

She nodded, a short, curt motion. He knew she was upset, he knew it was his fault… but for some reason, he couldn't stop being a complete asshole.

She told the driver his address, and the car pulled away from the curb.

It was the longest ride of his life. It was silent. Her hands were twisted in her lap, her knuckles white. He felt so fucking guilty he didn't know what to do.

_I'm sorry! _He wanted to cry. He wanted to put his arms around her and kiss her and apologise and tell her she was beautiful and fuckable and everything else he hadn't told her because he was too goddamned cowardly. But then, he was a coward, so he just sat there, feeling more and more like shit.

"Well, seeya." He murmured when the car pulled up to his building. "Thanks… for the night and everything." He tried to sound humbled, but he just sounded sullen.

_I can't keep doing this to her._

She looked at him, her eyes massive, wide, round. "OK." She said, her mouth open slightly.

He tried to smile, shut the door, hobbled across the pavement.

"Arnold, wait." She came tripping out of the car behind him.

Annoyance and relief both flooded through him. He turned to face her, his keys in his hand.

"Have I done something wrong?" She asked, her eyes were shiny, she bit her bottom lip… she looked _scared._

He sighed. "No… you haven't."

"I don't understand!" She gasped. "I mean, last time I saw you, everything was OK, wasn't it? And now you'll hardly talk to me!" A high edge cracked in her voice. Her bottom lip trembled.

_Shit, she's going to cry. _He at once both hated, and loved her. He wanted to grab her and sooth her, but he also wanted her to fuck off.

"Look, Helga. I just don't think we should keep on forcing something that isn't going anywhere."

He sounded callous, even to his own ears. He cringed.

She stared at him. She blinked, rapidly. "I… I uh…" She stuttered, before taking a deep breath and straightening up. He watched her switch from hurt to strong in less than a second.

"I didn't know you felt that way." Her voice was quiet, but hard. "I suppose I'll see you around then. Have a good night."

She turned on her heel and strode back off to the car.

He groaned. "Aw, Helga, I didn't mean it like that." _How did you mean it then?_

She didn't respond though, she didn't even tense up at his voice. She acted purely like he didn't exist. She slid into the seat, shut the door, and the car pulled away.

_Shit._


	8. Chapter 8

"You're a fucking idiot." Gerald was staring at him with disbelief. "I didn't mean to _dump _her! I was trying to tell you to _satisfy _her."

Arnold shrugged, still angry. "What's the difference? It's not a problem anymore."

"It's not a… what the fuck Arnold? What the hell is wrong with you?" Gerald was looking at him like he was an alien.

"What's wrong with me? Oh, I don't know… oh, wait, _I'm a fucking cripple." _He balled his hands into fists. "I'm so fucking _sick _of this shit… like I'm not allowed to be angry or fucked up over the fact that _I lost my goddamned leg. _I'm fucking _handicapped_, Gerald, do you understand that? I have the parking permit to prove it." He sucked a breath in through his teeth, seething at the injustice of it all.

"I am not a whole person, I am _less than. _I'm goddamned pathetic, and for some reason, people are surprised that I'm not comfortable trying to pursue a relationship?" He wanted to yell, to throw things.

Gerald's eye were wide, shocked. "Calm down, man… I didn't mean…"

"NO!" Arnold yelled. "I've _never _thought I was good enough for the girls I like… you wonder why I'm always so fucking meek and nice and _gentlemanly…_" he spat the word out, like it was dirty. "I've been a fucking pussy my entire life, because I felt like I wasn't _worthy. And now I'm not. _There isn't a woman alive who deserves to be with a legless fucking spastic like me, and the fact that Helga liked me _proves _that she's too good for me."

His chest was heaving with emotion, he was so angry, so fucking furious, that his head was pounding with it, his good leg was twitching, his shoulders hunched. "I _like her, _Gerald! I really, _really_ fucking like her. How could I do that to her? How could I be so selfish as to saddle her with a cripple? A cripple that was too scared to _bed her_, nonetheless? What on earth could I possibly offer her? A lifetime of grovelling? Of apologising for not being whole?"

He stopped, his mouth open slightly, his breath coming hard. He collapsed into Gerald's couch, panting. He shrugged, suddenly out of energy. "She deserves to be with someone that's her _equal_." He said simply. "How could I be with a girl like that? Look at me."

Gerald was silent, staring.

"Fuck." Arnold groaned. He leaned forward, put his head in his hands.

"Jesus." Gerald let out a breath.

"I gotta go." Arnold went to stand up, swaying slightly on his unsteady feet.

"Wait, hold on man, lemme get my keys, I'll drive you." Gerald scrambled to his feet, but Arnold shook his head.

"No. No thanks man… I just wanna be alone, OK?" He suddenly felt tired, heavy… but also inexplicably like he wanted to go for a run. He smiled to himself, _a run, yeah, right. _

"Oh… yeah, right… OK…" Gerald just stood there, concerned, speechless. "Will, uh, will you be alright getting home?"

"Yeah, I'll be sweet." He hesitated. "Sorry for blowing up at you."

"Nah, man… no need to apologise." Gerald smiled. "Gimme some sugar." He stepped around the coffee table and gave Arnold a quick man hug, slapping him on the back as he stepped away.

"You'll be right man… I suppose it'll just take more time, huh?"

Arnold snorted. "Yeah… sure. Well… Seeya." He hobbled out of the apartment.

…

It was drizzling, the pavement was slick. Arnold welcomed it, the cool evening air in his hair. He moved as quickly as he could down the footpath. His 'leg' rubbed his thigh, as always.

A woman leaned against a wall, sobbing gently into her cellphone.

An elderly couple walked four fat, snuffling, tiny dogs.

Two girls held hands, shy, barely looking at each other.

A boy played guitar in a window, his feet dangling stories above the sidewalk.

A man cradled his his sleeping daughter on his shoulder. Arnold watched the little girl's face as they passed, her mouth slack, her arms limp around her father's neck. His heart ached.

_Fuck._

He kept walking, he dug his ipod out from his jacket pocket and jammed the headphones into his ears. Leonard Cohen was suitably depressing… he limped on.

Sweat started to bead on his forehead, his upper lip. He could feel it soaking into the fabric of his T-shirt. He was about halfway home, and his legs were throbbing. His _stump _felt swollen, the rim of the leg was rubbing at his skin, the fabric wrapping around his thigh had slipped, bunched up like a sock falling down into a shoe.

His limp became more pronounced, causing people to look at him funny as he passed, but he tried to ignore it, kept his eyes on the pavement. The rain started falling harder, but he pulled the hood of his jacket up and kept moving.

The hard plastic socket of his 'leg' felt wet, he didn't know if it was from blood or sweat. He wanted to rearrange his leg wrapping, but he couldn't put his hands down his pants in public, so he just kept going. His legs were screaming at him, his hips felt like they were grinding in their sockets.

He was _so tired. _He hadn't slept a wink the night before, he had just lain awake, staring at the ceiling. He kept picturing Helga's face, her eyes wide, damp with tears. He wished he had been kinder to her… he wished he was whole, that he could try and be a man that deserved her.

His attention wandered, his leg slipped, went skittering out from beneath him. He came down hard.

"_Ooof." _All the air was knocked out of him. He saw sparks as his chin hit the ground. A blinding pain shot up his good knee. He just lay there for a second, trying to breath.

"_Oh my god!" _he heard a girl scream. He hoped it wasn't about him. He wondered if he was actually hurt, or just winded.

He heard a man calling "Hey, where are you… come back!" and the clatter of heels by his head.

"Are you OK?"

He groaned, rolled on his side a little. _Oh, great. _A pretty woman comes running to save him… of course.

"You took a really hard fall… can you sit up?"

He rolled onto his back, sat up. He worked his jaw, felt his teeth with his tongue. It didn't feel like he'd broken anything. He flexed his knee, it stung, but didn't feel too bad. The palms of his hands were roughed up, but the skin wasn't broken. He was OK.

He looked up at the girl. _Oh Jesus. _She had big, blue eyes. Heart-breaking eyes. He swallowed.

"Oh Jesus." She gasped, she stared for a second, then dove into her handbag. After a second she unearthed a pack of tissues. "Put your head up."

_Huh? _Arnold touched his chin, his fingers came away sticky, dark with blood. _Oh. _He suddenly didn't feel too good.

"Shhhh." Her voice was low, soothing. She gently clamped a wad of tissues to the bottom of his chin. "There…" She smiled at him, _with those eyes. _"We have to get you up. Can you stand if I help? Keep your hand on those tissues."

He wanted to push her away, but he felt kinda… spacey.

She took his arm, hefted him up. She was weirdly strong for someone so small. He leaned heavily against her shoulder. Her arm was around his waist.

"Are you meeting someone?" She asked "Or can I call someone for you?"

"No… no thanks… I'll just keep walking."

She laughed. "Um, no you won't. Here… I'll put you in a taxi."

"Hey!" The man's voice, angry sounding. Arnold turned to look at him. A big guy, kinda… sandy looking. "Are you coming or what?"

She laughed again. "Um, I don't think so, no." She turned back to Arnold, grinning. "Worst blind date _ever_!" she whispered. Her face sobered. "You really don't look good. Look, where do you live?"

He mumbled his address, emotionless, like a brainwashed child.

"You aren't far from me at all, I'll drop you on my way home, is that OK?"

He couldn't think anymore, he nodded.

She hailed a taxi and bundled him into the back of it. "Oh, don't worry about that, just drive. Can't you see he's hurt?" She rolled her eyes as the taxi driver started to complain about carting around a bleeding cripple.

"Here, let me see that chin." She replaced the tissues, stuffing the bloodied ones into the empty pack. She then pulled a tube of hand sanitizer from her bag and cleaned her hands up. She noticed him watching and held her palms up. "I'm a nurse, it's a professional necessity, nothing personal. I'm Emma, by the way."

"Arnold."

"Well, Arnold, it doesn't look like your chin will need stiches… they always bleed a bit, but it should heal up fine. Clean it up when you get home though." She leaned back against the seat and considered him. "You need to be more careful on that leg. Still in therapy?"

He swallowed, nodded.

"Where were you walking from?" Her eyes widened at the answer. "Jesus! Are you crazy!" her face softened. "Let me guess… a bit of self flagellation?"

He nodded again, casting his eyes down to his lap.

She reached over, patted his knee. "It'll get better sweetheart. I know it feel like you're only half a person now… but it isn't the end of the world."

He seethed, despite himself. "How would you know?"

As calm as anything, she held his eye and stated: "After my brother lost both of his legs in Afghanistan, I spent three years overseas working to rehabilitate landmine victims." Her gaze was steady, her voice low.

"Well, I feel like an ass." He sighed.

She laughed. "It's fine, it's to be expected. It's a traumatic thing, no matter what walk of life you're from. Just thank your lucky stars that you're a white male living in the US. If you _have _to be an amputee… you're the luckiest kind." She smiled.

"I dumped an amazing girl." He sighed. "Last night." He slumped over in the seat, keeping his hand pressed to his chin.

"Ah. Hence the insanity walk."

"She has eyes like you."

"She must be _gorgeous _then." Emma teased.

"She is."

"So she's worth getting your shit sorted for?"

He paused. "Touché."

She laughed. "This is your stop, handsome." She smiled. "Can you make it inside by yourself?"

"Yeah, I should be fine."

"Good… I'll see you around, Arnold."

"Goodnight Emma, thanks." He swung his legs out onto the street. "Oh, wait, let me give you some cash."

She protested. "No, really, you saved me from an awful evening, I owe you." But he pressed ten dollars into her hand.

"It's all I have on me, sorry." He got out of the car, even more awkwardly than normal, with his hand held to his chin.

He waved as the taxi drove off, then trudged lop-sidedly into his building. His legs throbbed, he could feel blisters on his thigh, and on his good foot. By the time he got in his apartment, he was close to tears.

He struggled to get to the bathroom, grabbing his crutches from his room on the way.

He pulled his first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet and filled the sink with warm water and disinfectant. Wetting a cloth, he dabbed his chin clean, dried it with another cloth, and stuck a band-aid on it before it bled so much he had to clean it again. Emma was right though, it wasn't that bad, just bled heaps.

He pulled his top off, lobbing it into the hallway, then tugged off his pants, sitting on the closed toilet in his boxers, he eased the prosthetic off his _stump._

_Fuck._

It was raw, bloody in parts. The skin was blistered in half a dozen places, and it was swollen, red… the flesh cinched in at the top, like when you wear socks that are too tight.

Dipping his cloth back into the warm water, he lay it over the _stump_, wincing when it stung.

It was just so fucking _ugly. _He hated it… he hated thinking that it belonged to his body… that this stunted, unpleasant thing was what used to be his thigh…

He used to like his legs. They were long, lean… they worked well. He was fast, he used to run when he was stressed, his stride ate up the pavement… and now he could hardly walk.

He stared at it, truly looking at it for the first time. This… _thing… _this foreign slug that had attached itself to his body - like a leech, a parasite - and ruined his life. He hated it more than he thought he could hate anything. He wanted to choke it, to wrench it from his body like so much decayed flesh… but he couldn't.

No matter how fast he managed to get, he could never outrun it.

He screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey, Arnold… do you have a minute?"

Arnold cringed, this was going to be painful, he could tell by the concerned look on Jon's face. He was a nice guy, and a good physical therapist (as far as Arnold knew… he didn't really have anyone to compare Jon to) but he could be a little… soul-searchy at times.

Still, what could Arnold do? Refuse? "Uh… sure." He limped across the gym into the consult office, leaning hard onto his cane, and lowered himself into a chair.

Jon closed the door behind him and sat down. "How are you holding up?" He was trying too hard to make eye contact, leaning forward in his chair… all the little 'bedside manner' tricks they used to make a patient feel 'comfortable'. Only it made Arnold anxious.

"Fine, fine."

"Have you still got pain in your residual limb?"

_Constantly. _"Yeah, same old, same old…"

"Phantom pains?"

"A little, more like phantom _cramps_… but no worse than before." _Liar. _

"You been sleeping OK?"

_Not even slightly. _"Yeah, not great, but OK."

Jon sighed, ran a hand across his bald head. "Look man, I know something's up. I just want to know how bad it is."

"It's… it's just all this…" Arnold gestured to his leg. "It's nothing…" he trailed off. He had never been very good at lying. He must have '_not coping'_ written across his forehead.

Jon referred to the clipboard on his lap "You're losing muscle mass, you're losing strength. You're obviously not doing the exercises. I'd guess you either aren't wrapping properly, or _at all _when you're at home. You went out without wearing a sock, with an improperly wrapped limb, and attempted a long walk. Which, unsurprisingly, led to your first fall… so now you're back to using the cane." His eyes were full of concern. "Have I missed anything?"

Arnold shrugged, chastised.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty." Jon sighed. "But you should be on your permanent prosthesis by now. We were hoping to get you on the suction suspension, but we might have to settle for the pin… you just aren't stabilising."

He shrugged again. What was he supposed to say?

"You're not sleeping well, are you?" Jon asked softly. Arnold shook his head.

"Have you been taking days off work?" Arnold nodded.

"Anything else?"

Arnold couldn't meet his eyes, he was humiliated.

"Got any personal stuff going on that you aren't dealing that well with?"

He nodded.

Jon made a sympathetic noise. "Girl trouble?"

He nodded again.

"I knew it. Alright man, we can work on this stuff…" He flipped through some of the pages on his clipboard. "I want you to talk to someone… anyone. Try something, if it doesn't stick, we'll look at something else, OK?" He smiled encouragingly.

"Uh, like what?" _A shrink? Awesome… so now I'm an official spaz._

"Well… you can go see a counsellor, your cover stretches to that, so it wouldn't cost you any extra. There are support groups that cater to amputees, both exclusively, and with their partners or loved ones…" He paused. "But to test the waters, why don't you talk to one of the other guys here, that has been going through this for longer?"

Arnold baulked. Try make personal small talk with some stranger over the bars? He wouldn't know where to start.

"There are some guys, ex patients I suppose, who still come in to use the gym. They are open to talk to anyone who is having a hard time adjusting… we just ask that you think about doing the same for others, once you feel like you've got a handle on things."

"I'm… I'm not really… I don't think I really need to do anything like that. I'm fine, really."

Jon paused, staring hard at Arnold… "Alright, tell you what. We get your strength back up to where it was in…" he check his clipboard "..March, by the end of the month, and I'll forget about it. You don't make it, you talk to someone. Deal?"

"Where was I in March?"

"At your best. So it means you'll actually have to do some work, to get back there in just over three weeks." Arnold went to protest, but Jon cut him off. "I want you to start doing _all _of your exercises at home again, at least twice a day, preferably three times… four if your feeling awesome… but don't push it too hard too fast, listen to your body." He spun around on his chair to check his computer. "I'm going to change your sessions here, too. You'll come in three times a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday."

"I… uh, what about work?"

"You can come in after work, just like you do now."

"Oh… OK." Arnold wasn't quite sure what he had agreed to.

"And eat properly." The printer on Jon's desk spat out of piece of paper. "Your new timetable. You start Wednesday, so try get a good night's sleep before then."

Arnold stood to leave.

"About the girl…" Jon rushed, standing and moving to open the door for Arnold. "… you have to trust them, Arnold. When they say they don't care about your leg, you just gotta let yourself believe them… or you'll drive them away."

He pictured Helga, the last time he had seen her… her big teary eyes growing stern, cold… while he just stood there, unable to tell her what the hell was going on inside his head. "Too late for that."


	10. Chapter 10

"Push… _Push!"_ Jon stood above him, yelling at him as he struggled to stand up under the weight on his back. "OK, one more, just give me one more..." Arnold's legs were shaking, sweat stung his eyes. He swore, grunted, as he squatted beneath the Smith Machine. His thighs ached, and although they threatened to give out, he slowly pushed up, his teeth gritted against the pain.

"PUSH dammit!" Jon barked, laughing as Arnold braced his legs beneath him and thrust upwards, pushing through the last rep of his set with a massive exhalation. He racked the bar and groaned.

Jon slapped him on the back. "You did it!" His grin was massive. "Before the deadline, no less." He looked so pleased, Arnold couldn't help but smile.

"My other leg feels like it's gonna fall off." Arnold groaned through his towel as he wiped his face.

"If it doesn't hurt, it's not working." Jon grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "Go shower, I'll be in the consult room if you need me."

No shower had ever felt so good. Afterwards Arnold sat on one of the long wooden benches, pulling a sock over his liner, when another guy came in from the gym.

Arnold had seem him around quite a bit. Both of his legs were gone below the knee, but it didn't seem to affect him at all, the guy was a _beast _of a man, strong… and he looked it.

"Looking good out there." The guy smiled at him as he went to collect his things from his locker. "Your deadlift's getting better every time I see you."

Arnold was a little taken aback. Not a fan of locker-room banter. "Uh, thanks…" He knew he should ask a question or make a friendly comment or something, but he was tired, and a little uncomfortable, and he just couldn't seem to find anything to say.

The guy didn't seem fazed though. "Took a spill a few weeks back, yeah?"

Arnold nodded. _What the fuck?_

The guy laughed. "I heard you were escorted home by a bossy little brat…" He raised an eyebrow.

It took Arnold a second to click. _After my brother lost both of his legs in Afghanistan…_

"You're Emma's brother?" He eyed the guy… Emma had been tiny, 5'4" or so, if he had to guess… This guy looked to be almost a foot taller than that.

"Ben…" He held his hand out, taking Arnold's in a brief, friendly handshake. "…and you're Arnold. Emma told me all about your adventure. You couldn't have taken your first fall in front of anyone better, she really knows her stuff." The guy's smile beamed pride like it was a neon sign. "I was drunk the first time I took a bad tumble, it was _not_ a pretty sight." He held up an elbow, where a livid pink scar ran down the back of his forearm.

Arnold was still trying to figure out what was going on. "Does she work _here?_"

Ben laughed. It seemed the guy laughed a lot. "Hell no. We're at the second largest gym like this in Seattle… Em's works at the largest." He grinned, that pride-filled grin again. "No way would I even go to the gym where she works… she'd never stop fussing." He hefted his bag up onto his shoulder. "I gotta go shower. If you're still around in ten minutes, Em's is meeting me for dinner. You're welcome to join us…"

Arnold had no idea what to think. Were these people trying to sell him something? Or where they just genuinely friendly? What would _old Arnold _havedone? He probably wouldn't have hesitated… He didn't trust people like how he used to, but there wasn't any real reason to refuse the invitation… he needed to eat, and he would be in like company…

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great, thanks." He forced himself to smile. "I have to go talk to Jon anyway, I'll meet you in a second?"

"Great!" Ben grinned. "Em's doesn't know you go here, let's surprise her."

…

A quarter hour later, Arnold was glad he had come from work, and hadn't turned up dressed like a hobo.

Emma was beautiful.

He didn't want to think about it, but there wasn't really any way to deny it. Her brown hair was swinging in a heavy ponytail, her figure subtly complimented by her fitted jeans and sweater. She looked like she could step into a 50's commercial.

The wholesome girl next door…

"Arnold?" Her grin was wide. She turned to her brother. "You didn't tell me!"

Ben just shrugged, grinned.

"Hey, Emma." Arnold made sure to smile, despite his nerves. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Are you coming to dinner with us?" The look on her face was eager, hopeful.

_She's so pretty. _"I figured you don't mind picking up strays…"

"The more the merrier!" She laughed.

_What is it about these two? _Arnold wondered as he watched them chat away over dinner. He had never really understood the sibling relationship thing, being an only child… and these two were no exception. They seemed especially close, giggling together like kids, two seconds after telling each other off for something stupid… and laughing, continually.

He could only imagine what kind of stable, loving kind of childhood they must have had, they seemed so _well adjusted. _

Emma had driven them to a little Italian place, where they both promised him that the food was _amazing. _A massive lasagne and a bottle of red wine later, they piled back into her car to drop Ben home.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Arnold." Ben grinned widely as he left the car, dragging his gym bag out from the back seat. "See you next week."

"Likewise." Arnold smiled. "I'll bring you those DVD's." Ben wanted to watch Firefly.

"Call me!" Emma called, leaning over Arnold's lap to blow her brother a kiss. Ben just nodded, laughed, waved as he crossed the pavement to his townhouse.

"So… anywhere you want to go or anything, before I drop you home?" Emma smiled briefly at him as she negotiated traffic.

"No, no… I'm good." Arnold was thankful that she had to keep her eyes on the road, and off him. It was easy enough to ignore when Ben had been there, but now that it was just the two of them, those big blue eyes seemed more… tempting.

They were silent for a little bit, Arnold looking out the window. He liked this time of year, the wet spring…

"So… how are you holding up? You look better than you did last time I saw you." Emma was peering over the steering wheel, waiting for a break in the traffic.

"Uh, yeah… Jon, my therapist, gave me a challenge… which I met… tonight, actually."

She grinned, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. "That's awesome, Arnold… it really is." She paused, swinging the sedan out into the road. "Jon's great, you're lucky to have him."

"You know him?"

"I make it my business to know as many people in my area of expertise as possible."

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah, makes sense."

"Are you _feeling_ better?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" He laughed. Somehow, he wasn't annoyed at her for the personal questions… not in the same way he got annoyed at others. He figured it was because she knew what she was talking about, because she had seen him at his weakest… and, if he was going to be honest… because he was attracted to her.

She blushed. "Sorry… I forget sometimes… it's just normal to me. Ben's always telling me off for being too _nosey_."

"No, seriously, it's fine." Arnold paused. "Yeah… I suppose I feel a bit better. It's good having more control over my body,."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "I see that a lot… people getting depressed because they can't do what they want to do, which demotivates them, which means they are even less able to do what they want… and so on. I'm so glad you pushed through it… it will only get easier from here, I promise."

"I hope you're right." He said softly. He hadn't really thought about it over the past few weeks, he'd been so intent on concentrating on his exercises, on building his strength up… but he _did _feel a little better. He still felt awful, self-conscious, ugly, ungainly… but that continual edge of near-panic had softened a little.

"Ben was really bad…" she sighed, her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "It took him a long time to come to terms with everything."

Arnold shifted a little. Uncomfortable that she was revealing personal information about someone he didn't know well… but also full of questions… how could Ben be so _happy _now, if he had been so bad before?

"We weren't that close, before he came back… he's a few years older than me, y'know?" She smiled briefly at him. "But he was a different person when he got sent home… so _angry_… nothing anyone said was right, he would fly into rages, and then go silent, not talking to anyone for days at a time." She let out a small sigh, a tired noise. "He got through it, though… obviously. He still has his moments, but he's dealing with it."

She took a deep breath, smiled. "You know what I noticed… the difference between first and third world amputees?"

Arnold shrugged, a little overwhelmed.

"Third world patients deal with it a whole lot better." She paused, but Arnold had nothing to say. "If you have three kids and nothing to feed them with, you don't have the luxury of succumbing to self pity… you just have to get on with it." She smiled briefly at him. "We are so lucky, Arnold… a leg is a small price to pay for clean drinking water and healthy children."

_Children. _"I've always wanted kids." He said suddenly, completely taking himself by surprise.

She smiled gently… that soft kind of smile girls made over sweet things, like elderly couples holding hands. "You'd make gorgeous kids…" A grin spread over her face, she laughed lightly. "My parents are bugging both Ben and I for grandkids… are yours the same? Wanting you to fill their house with flaxen-haired spogs?"

Arnold blinked… the most awkward conversation topic ever… he'd rather go back to talking about his emotional deficiencies. "Um, no… nothing like that…" he tried to avoid the topic.

She grinned. "Well, you're lucky! Do you have older siblings or something that bear the brunt of the grandparent instinct, or are you just lucky enough to have folks that aren't that pushy?" Her smile was so genuine, so… open… that he didn't know what to say.

"Um… I'm an only child." His voice cracked a little as he spoke. He coughed, trying to cover it up.

"Yeah? I wouldn't have picked that." She smiled. "How did your parents take the leg thing?"

_Well, can't avoid that one. _He collapsed a little inside. "I don't have parents… I mean… uh…"

Her face froze, her eyes wide. "Oh shit, Arnold…" She made a little groaning noise. "I am so, so sorry…" She glanced at him, her face stricken. "I… I didn't…" she took a breath. "What happened?"

This part he almost had by heart. "They were scientists, they left to research the cause of a sickness in Central America, and they were lost. I was raised by my grandparents."

She put a hand to the base of her throat, her palm between her collarbones. A strange memory flashed through Arnold's mind… the minute before Helga had kissed him for the first time, when she laid his hand in almost the same place... He could still remember how it felt, her skin warm, her pulse under his fingers…

"And your grandparents?" Emma asked softly, her face soft with emotion. _Pity_.

"They both passed away a few years back." Arnold said simply… really not wanting to talk anymore.

"Do you have _any_ family?" She sounded like she was about to cry.

He shook his head. "No."

"Who… who have you had?" She glanced at him again.

He shrugged. "My friend Gerald's always been there for me… his family is pretty close too, I suppose."

She nodded, her eyes on the road. He had no idea what to say… she didn't either, it seemed.

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive. Arnold didn't know what to think. He felt awkward, obviously, but he had been through the _orphan _revelation so many times over the years that it wasn't a massive deal… what he wanted to do was to call Gerald. He felt suddenly guilty for being such a shit friend since his accident.

"Well." Emma said in a small voice as she pulled into the loading zone in front of his building and turned off the engine. "This is you." She smiled, or attempted to.

"Hey, Emma…" Arnold swallowed. "You don't need to feel bad or anything… I'm not hating on you."

"You're so sweet." She smiled, twisting a little in her seat to look up at him. "I _am_ sorry though, I don't know when to stop sometimes."

_Jesus Christ, those eyes. _He swallowed. Was this an 'invite her up for _coffee'_ moment? He didn't know… and even if it was, he didn't know if he should... or could.

"Do you want to meet for lunch or coffee or something one day?" She asked, her smile shy.

"Uh… yeah! I mean, sure." Well, at least that took care of the immediate problem. He didn't really see her as a jump-into-bed-with-a-guy-she-hardly-knew kinda girl anyway.

She took his number, promising to text him later.

"Well, goodnight." He clambered out of the car.

"Night, Arnold." She smiled again, one of those soft smiles. God he loved it when girls did that… even if it did make his chest ache.


	11. Chapter 11

"Arnold! and Pizza!" Gerald grinned, opening the door to let Arnold in. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Arnold blinked. "Shit… was I supposed to come over tomorrow night or something?"

Gerald chuckled. "Nah man… you've got the right day. I was talking about the pizza… and _beer?_" He cleared a space on the coffee table for the pizza box. "I say, Shortman… are you trying to woo me?" He winked. "Cos if you are… it's working."

"Wait till I pull out the candles and rose petals." Arnold grinned, pulling one of the beers from the box and handing it over. "You'll be putty in my hands."

"Don't forget the Barry White, Sweetheart… you know I'm Sucker for his sultry Baritone."

Arnold laughed, flopped down onto the sofa. "Honestly though…" he smiled, feeling decidedly silly. "I, uh… I wanted to say thanks… for how cool you've been since the accident."

"Ah man! You know it's no bother!" Gerald grinned, falling into the seat next to Arnold and leaning forward to open the pizza box. "Ah, you even got my favourite."

"Extra pineapple." Arnold could have laughed… they were almost like an old married couple or something. "I wanna say I'm sorry, too… for being such a downer…"

Gerald stopped at that. "Seriously man, don't mention it." He paused to stop pizza cheese from falling onto the carpet. "I just want you to come back to the land of the living."

Arnold nodded. It felt shit, knowing that Gerald had been worrying about him for so long. He had been so caught up in his own self-pity that he had totally taken his best friend for granted.

"Wait… does this mean you've hooked back up with the lovely Ms Helga?" A grin spread across Gerald's face.

Arnold blinked. "What? No…" He stammered. "I mean… why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "Wondering what happened to perk you up… lovin'll do wonders for a man." He waggled his eyebrows.

_Am I blushing? _The bottom of Arnold's stomach fell a little, like how it did every time he thought of Helga. He tried to ignore it… no use dwelling on his mistakes… there wasn't anything he could do to change the past. "Nah, man… I haven't spoken to Helga since, uh, that night." He shrugged. "I might have a date with someone else though…"

"That's a shame… the Helga thing, I mean… not the date thing. Who's the lucky lady?"

"Uh… remember how I told you a nurse took me home after I took, uh, that fall?" Arnold _hated _talking about that fall… it made him feel pathetic, like an old man.

Gerald nodded, his face full of pizza.

"Yeah, her. Turns out her brother goes to my gym, and I went out to dinner with them last night."

Gerald swallowed… took a swig of his beer. "You're going to date a chick who works with amputees for a living? Isn't that a little… close to home?"

Arnold thought for a second, chewing meditatively at his pizza. "No… I don't think so… at least, I hope not." He took a drink. "I mean, I can talk to her about it, but I don't feel like I'm a _patient _or anything. She's really nice, and pretty…"

Gerald nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Whatever you say, Arnold."

Arnold sighed… he didn't want to have his actions analysed… he just wanted to _do_ something. He had figured Gerald would be _happy _that he was getting out there… "How're things with your brunette?"

Gerald let out a long, low whistle. "Sarah-Fine-And-Tall… I'll tell ya man, she. Is. a. _fox!_ Bendy, too." He grinned, took another bite of pizza.

They sat in contemplative silence for a while, some inane sitcom on the TV, but neither of them were paying attention.

"You _should _give Pataki a call or something sometime." Gerald said almost lazily. "She's a cool chick, man… you should get back in touch."

Arnold swallowed. "Why so keen on Helga?" He didn't really want to have this conversation. Thinking about Helga just made him hate himself. He had screwed the whole thing up so badly, it just depressed him.

Gerald shrugged. "I dunno… you guys seemed really good together. I know you were all messed up n' shit… but you still seemed to dig each other."

Arnold didn't know what to say…

Gerald continued "I mean, I've seen her, since you broke it off with her… and she was _so cool _about it. She asked how you were, if you were OK… she was _sad_, man… blue, even. But she wasn't hating on you." He shrugged. "Just seems like she _got _you, y'know… and you kinda owe her an apology for being so shitty to her… even if we do all understand why, and no one holds it against you… you should say sorry."

Arnold just kinda stared. Since when did Gerald make the speeches about doing the _right thing? _That had always been _his _forte.

"What would I say?" Arnold sighed, flinging his crust back into the box and slumping down into the sofa. "_Sorry I was a fucking asshole?_"

Gerald snickered. "Well, yeah… why not? Ladies appreciate honesty."

Arnold nodded… sure, he could understand that. He might not even have to explain _why _he had been such a bastard, if he was brutally honest about how much of a tosser he had been. "Should I just call her, or go knock at her door? Or what?"

"Just call her man… no need to make it stalker-like. Just a casual phone call…" He opened another beer and held it out. "Here… drink this, and call her… just do it now… see what happens."

Butterflies started racing in Arnold's stomach. _Why do they call it _butterflies, _when stampeding antelope seems so much more apt? _He swallowed, nervous. "I… I dunno…"

Gerald groaned. "You'll feel better if you do. I know you man, you'll be all down on yourself n' shit… just call her, tell her that you're sorry, that it wasn't her fault. It'll take a load off."

_Go on… do it. _Arnold closed his eyes… trying to make himself determined… the way he did when he was at the gym and it felt like it was getting too hard. He pictured himself where he wanted to be, and just fucking _did it. _He _wanted _to feel like himself again, to feel like a good person… "Yeah, OK… you're right." He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Now?" Gerald grinned.

"Yup." He searched for her number.

"That's the Arnold I know n' Love." He stood. "I'll give you a moment."

"Cheers." The phone was ringing… his stomach twisted into knots… he could feel his palms sweating. He closed his eyes again, tried to calm himself down.

The call clicked over. "_Hi_…"

It was her voice… he hadn't heard it in weeks… He almost replied, but it continued. "_You've reached Helga's phone. Leave a message after the beep_."

His heart dropped… He _hated _leaving messages, but he waited for the beep anyway.

_beep_

"Hi Helga, it's, uh, Arnold… I…" He sighed. _Pull yourself together!_ "I know this has been a long time coming, and I wish I had done it earlier… but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry… really sorry, for how I acted… towards you…" He took a deep breath. This wasn't coming out right, he could feel it. "I… I just want you to know that… that I'm sorry, I mean… I hope I hear from you… uh… Seeya."

He hung up, feeling like a complete asshat. Why wasn't there some function that let you re-record messages? Just in case you fucked them up the first time? _Was _there some function that let you re-record messages, and he just didn't know about it?

He felt like a complete twat.

"It was a no-go!" He called, bringing Gerald back out from the bedroom. "It went to answerphone."

"Sucks. You leave a message?" Gerald reclaimed his seat and his beer.

"Yeah… but I sounded like a fucking idiot. _Uh, uh, uh… uh s-s-s-s-s-orry… durrrrrr." _Arnold sighed.

Chuckling, Gerald punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Don't worry about it man, I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort." He stretched his legs out. "Now… you ready for some _Aliens?_"

"Always, brother… always."

… … … …

For the fourth time that night, Arnold checked that his phone wasn't on silent... that he hadn't missed a call, or a text message.

Nothing. The little screen gave him _nothing_. He sighed, dropped the phone back on his bedside table and closed his eyes.

He was just so _nervou_s… all kind of jittery and excited… and scared.

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling. He supposed she wouldn't reply. He could hardly expect her to. It had almost been a month since he had unceremoniously broken up with her on the side of the road… he had been a total asshole…

He wrapped the hem of his sheet between his hands, worrying the fabric in his fingers as he lay there, fretting. Why had he called her? Did he still want to date her? Or did he just want to let her know that he was sorry?

He hated this… he was feeling almost calm earlier in the evening, when he had first arrived at Gerald's… but then he had been told that Helga was _sad_, that she asked about him… He felt his stomach cramp.

_I miss her._

He groaned, pushed his fists into his eyes. The thought of her drove him _crazy. _Surely that wasn't healthy? Everything about Helga was complicated. The moment he had set eyes on her, he had wanted her… he could barely talk to her, he was so nervous in her presence. It put him on edge, made him feel like he was losing his mind.

And now he was waiting by the phone, waiting for her to call… like he was a pining dog. No girl had ever made his head fuzz up the way she did, no girl had ever made him so unsure, so tense.

Emma, on the other hand, was so _simple, _so easy to be around. She was pretty, smart, funny… she interested him, without freaking him out. Everything about her seemed… cleaner? No… that made it seem like Helga was _dirty _somehow… everything about Emma seemed more clean-cut, less… intense.

He could read her body language, tell what she was thinking, more than he could Helga, anyway. That had to be good… hadn't it? Sure, he couldn't seem to get Helga out of his head… but Emma didn't make him spend all night awake, worrying that he had said the wrong thing.

Hell… he hardly even knew Helga. The more he thought about it, the more he had realised that she never told him anything. He didn't know what she had been working on, or what her life in Florida had been like. She was a closed book. With a twinge of guilt, he admitted that he hadn't asked her much… that he had kept their conversations as _light_ as possible… but she hadn't volunteered much, either…

He didn't know what to think about that…

He didn't know what to think about _anything…_


	12. Chapter 12

Arnold scrubbed his hair vigorously with his towel, grinning to himself. He was tired, exhausted really, but happy. He had done really well, upping his weight on all of his exercises… even the squat, which was the one he had the most trouble with.

He was humming to himself when Ben came in. "Hey man!" He grinned, looking up briefly from rolling on his liner.

"Hey!" Ben smiled, crossing to his locker. "I finished Firefly… just gotta watch Serenity now."

"You like it?"

Ben laughed. "I _loved _it. I might go buy the DVD's myself. Jayne is awesome."

"Pass them to Emma when you're done… she said she liked the sound of it." Arnold pulled a sock on over his liner. It was feeling kinda tight, which was to be expected after a work out… but his thighs were getting larger, too… there was muscle definition there that wasn't there before.

"Yeah? And when did Emma tell you that?" Ben's voice was light, mocking.

Arnold baulked. "Uh… I…"

Ben laughed, shaking his head. "It's OK man… you think I would have asked you to come to dinner with us if I wasn't OK with you two hooking up?" He sighed, grinned. "It's kinda weird, setting my sister up… but you don't seem like a _complete _douchebag."

"Uh… thanks?" Arnold had no idea what to say. He and Emma were hardly _hooking up. _They had been to lunch, once, and out for coffee. They hadn't so much as held hands.

Ben rifled though his gym bag, putting his mp3 player away and pulling out a clean towel. "You coming to dinner?" He pushed the release button on the side of his right leg, slipping his stump out with a hissing noise. Arnold watched, a little fascinated. Ben had one of the suction legs, whereas Arnold had this weird mechanical pin mechanism holding the prosthetic to a liner that gripped his _stump. _He was kinda jealous… although he only had himself to blame. He needed to get a permanent leg… if he had just concentrated on keeping up his muscle mass, he could have had one of the suction ones too.

He shook his head, realising he had been gawking instead of answering Ben's question. "Nah, I'll keep out of your hair tonight."

"Oh, so generous of you… letting me see my sister n' all." Ben rolled his eyes. "Seriously though, it's no big deal if you do want to join us. We'll probably make it an early one."

Arnold shook his head. "It's OK. I'm heading over to a friends place anyway. We'll probably just get pizza… watch some old X Files or something."

"Alright… well, seeya next week."

"Yeah, seeya man." Arnold stood to slot his _stump _into his leg, putting a finger though the little guide hole so he could align the pin properly. He leaned down, waited for it to _click _into place…

"Arnold!" He was just walking out the front doors when he heard Emma call his name. He grinned as he turned to meet her.

"Hi! I was wondering if I'd bump into you." He put his arms out as she came trotting up to him, her little face beaming. Without even the slightest hesitation, she stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him. She made the sweetest little noise, a cute kind of grunt, a satisfied sound. He smiled...

"You aren't coming to dinner with us?" She kept her arms around his neck, leaning back so that she could see his face, but she was still pressed against him, from hip to knee.

He ran his gaze down her… she was so _pretty._ It was the perfect word for her. The V necked top she wore showed just a hint of cleavage, but nothing obvious… her hair was in a ponytail, her lips were glossy… and her big blue eyes… "Uh, no, sorry." He smiled, squeezed her a little, making her grin. "Gerald and I are doing our thing."

She nodded, wriggling out of his arms, still smiling. "Sounds exciting! I hope _your thing _involves car chases and racketeering."

"On screen, maybe… we're pretty tame in real life though." His hand snaked out to touch her elbow. "You wanna go out tomorrow night?"

"I'm working tomorrow night… shift work n' all." She shrugged, her hair bouncing against her back.

"Sunday night then? Are you free?" He stepped a little closer to her… her eyes widened. "Can I take you out? Dinner and a movie?"

She was blushing. "Um… I think I'm free Sunday, yeah." Her eyes dipped from his, she looked so suddenly shy. He liked it… he liked having that effect on her. He liked that he could still affect anyone, let alone such a _pretty _girl.

"I'll call you." He smiled, turning to leave.

She nodded. "OK." He looked back, she grinned, waved…

He was still smiling to himself when he got to Gerald's place… she was just so _easy _to talk to… he almost felt like a normal person, flirting with a girl…

…

… He kissed her goodnight.

They were standing in front of her building, in a puddle of hazy orange light. She looked up at him, nervous, her hands by her sides. "Well, um… goodnight Arnold… thanks for…" she trailed off, smiling shyly.

He stepped forwards, put his arms around her waist. She was blushing, her hands came up and lay flat on his chest, ran up to join behind his head. "Goodnight." He smiled. He felt oddly confident, his eyes taking her in, every detail… how a few strands of hair fell over her left eye, the little scar on her nose from an old piercing, the last smudges of red lipstick that stained her lips.

He gazed into her eyes, watching them widen briefly as he bent down, leaning towards her. He could feel her arms tighten around his neck as her eyelids fluttered shut. He pressed his lips to hers, softly.

She sighed against him, a sweet little noise.

He pulled away, just enough so he could see her eyes again, drink them in as she opened them to look at him. She smiled. "I… I would ask you up… but… um…"

He shook his head. "It's OK… You go upstairs, I'll see you later." He kissed her again – briefly – and let her go.

She nodded, smiling that shy smile. "Goodnight Arnold."

"'Nite, Emma."

…

He replayed that moment over and over in his head. Lying on his back, the sheets a tangle at the foot of the bed, his hand in his boxers… he pictured her sweet little face, tilting up to meet him as he bent to kiss her.

Those eyes… those big, deeply blue eyes. He couldn't help it, he felt awful about it, but in that second when her eyes were all he could see… he had almost thought she was someone else.

He had wanted her to be someone else.


	13. Chapter 13

"Shit, sorry Arnold, I'm running late." Emma grimaced as she opened her apartment door, her hair wet, a towel wrapped around her body.

"For what? We're just watching something here, aren't we?" Arnold jiggled the plastic bag in his hand. "I brought you Chocolate Macadamia…" He grinned.

"Oh god, you're amazing. See if there's room in the freezer? Or we'll have to eat it all in one go." Emma reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.

"Sounds OK to me." He snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her against him. "You should stay like that… it suits you." He kissed her back, harder.

"You like?" She pressed her hips forward. "It's just something I threw on." She was grinning against his mouth, her arms around his neck.

He chuckled, slid his fingers around her, the plastic bag bumping against her thigh… he found the edge of the towel, crept his hand beneath it. She giggled, pushed him away.

"Put the ice-cream away." Her cheeks were red, she grinned up at him.

"Yes 'mam." He nodded, watched her retreat into her bedroom. He managed to cram the ice-cream into her packed freezer, between a bag of beans and a chicken breast…

…"You OK?" He asked. She felt tense, his arms around her shoulders, his face pressed against her hair. She sat between his legs, lying on his chest, as they lay on her sofa, watching _Serenity._

She sighed. "Do you get the feeling that we could… get serious… and have a perfectly happy life together?"

Arnold felt his breath catch. _Whoa, heavy. _"Uh…" he thought about it for a second… could he? Yeah… he supposed he could. Emma was sweet, she was smart and independent and dedicated to her work. They had been dating for a while and they hadn't so much as snarked at each other. Granted, they didn't get to see that much of each other, with her shift work n' all… but they were good, they were happy.

"Yeah… I hadn't really thought that far ahead…" he admitted. "But I like being with you." He kissed her hair.

"Do… do you kinda feel like it's too easy?" Her voice was soft… a little nervous. Arnold shifted, wary.

"What do you mean?"

She twisted around, squirming until she was facing him, her chest pressed up against his. Automatically, his hands moved to her ribs, feeling the slight weight of her. She was so _little. _It never failed to surprise him. She felt so small in his hands, always smaller than he was expecting, somehow.

"I dunno… like… this has just been so easy. It's… it's like we could just exist with each other… but we're not… like…" she sighed, her forehead creasing as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "OK… we've been dating for, like, over four months, yes?"

Arnold nodded, he supposed they had. He hadn't really been keeping track.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

"You wanna have sex?" He felt himself grin. His hands tightened on her ribs. "I'm sure we could work something out…"

She smiled, blushing again. "Yeah… I mean… _argh." _She shook her head. "It's like you're the perfect guy… you're smart and handsome and _so _sweet… but I just don't… I don't feel that head-over-heels thing, you know?" Her eyes pleaded with him, asking him to take her seriously.

He stroked her face. "Yeah… I suppose I do." The backs of his fingers grazed down her cheek. "We have done _stuff _though… I mean, we haven't been exactly abstinent, have we? I just thought we were taking it slow." They had never really talked about sex at all…

She shook her head again. "It's not just that… I just used it as an example… I mean, shouldn't we be fucking, or fooling around or something, every chance we get? Shouldn't we be unable to keep our hands off each other?" She shrugged. "I like you… _a lot. _But are we really… uh… like… falling for each other? Or are we just kinda going with it because it's easy?"

Arnold opened his mouth… but he didn't know what to say. She was right. He was attracted to her, comfortable with her… but he didn't _need _her. She was more a friend than a lover… she didn't keep him up at night, she didn't make his stomach roil with nerves. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? The whole _best friend _thing?

"It's like… I didn't even get nervous when we first started dating… I lie, I did get a _bit_ nervous, but I didn't have that sweaty-palms, churning stomach thing." She wasn't looking into his eyes, but her gaze was at his throat. His hand trailed round to the back of her neck, stroked the soft, downy skin beneath her hairline.

"I get what you mean." Arnold said softly.

She smiled a little. "I… I _want _a… a _big _love… you know?" Her eyes flicked to his… he nodded in reply.

"Yeah, I know." He thought of Helga… of how _scared _he was of her. He didn't know what to think. Emma was right, what they had was easy, simple… it was probably quite healthy, as far as emotions go, they treated each other well… but they weren't _in love._ "We aren't… uh… passionate." He _hated _that word, but it fit, in this instance.

Her smiled grew, she looked _relieved. _She lay her head on his chest. "Have you ever felt that?" She asked in a whisper.

He swallowed. What the hell was going on? Was she breaking up with him? He tried to think about that, but he found he didn't really mind. It made him a little sad, but it didn't tear at him.

"Uh… yeah… I have."

"What happened?"

"I screwed it up." He sighed.

They lay in silence for a minute… he listened to her breathing, watched the slow rise and fall of her ribs as she lay on top of him.

"You're lucky." She whispered.

"I'm stupid." Arnold whispered back, surprising himself. What could he say? He had fucked up his chance at the very thing she wanted.

"Was… that the girl you had broken up with… when I first met you?" Her voice was muffled by his shirt, he stroked her head.

"Yeah… Helga." He didn't know what to say. The girl on top of him was asking about his ex… what could he tell her? That he was so scared of how Helga made him feel that he pushed her away… but he didn't feel that way about her? There was an amazing girl _right there… _but he just didn't have the same reaction to her.

He sighed.

"You should call her." Emma nuzzled her head against his chest, relaxing against him. Despite the shitty situation, he felt himself _stirring. _It wasn't like he didn't _want _her… damn.

"I did… I don't think she wants to talk to me."

"You should try…" Emma's voice wavered a bit. "… you shouldn't just let that kind of thing go."

"Hey…" he put his fingers under her chin and tugged her to face him. "You OK?" her eyes were moist.

She nodded. "I'm sad… obviously. I mean… I _want _to love you." She shrugged.

"Oh sweetheart…" again, he didn't know what he could say.

She smiled. "It's OK, really." She leaned her head back down, her ear over his heart. "You won't stop being my friend though, will you?"

His stomach knotted. She was so sweet… and he really did care for her. "It might work out, you know… we might…"

She chuckled. "Lets not force it… if it happens, then good… there's no one I would rather fall for." Her hand fumbled for his, wrapped her fingers around his. "You date someone to find out if you have that, uh, _spark. _It's not the end of the world that we don't."

"How did you get so smart?" He squeezed her hand.

"I've always been this smart… the bimbo façade is just for show." She giggled.

Silence again. He had a lot swimming around in his head. He was single again… not that they had ever really made it _official_. He sighed. So that was that. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to just leave. It was nice, lying there with Emma curled up on his chest. He liked feeling close to someone.

He pressed a last kiss to the top of her head. "You wanna halve a tub of Ben n' Jerry's with me?"

…

He walked home alone, a few hours later. The rest of the night had been surprisingly normal. He supposed it just further illustrated how they weren't _in love. _

She had been sweet, lying on the floor with her feet on the sofa, spooning ice-cream from the carton, telling him about how her parents met, how _in love _they were… how she didn't mind being single forever, if it meant she never had to look at the person she was with and wonder what she was missing out on.

He didn't doubt she'd find what she wanted.

His phone was clutched in his hand, shoved as it was in his pocket. "_Call her, Arnold… or go knock on her door. You should chase her… don't give up so easy." _Emma had all but demanded that he try make things right with Helga. It was a weird conversation to have with the girl that had just broken up with him… but she was right.

One phone call wasn't enough. He didn't want to stalk Helga, or harass her… but he wanted to talk to her. He ran his thumb over the buttons on his phone. What should he say? Obviously, he should think about that this time, so as not to leave her another stunted, bumbling message. By the time he got back to his building, he thought he knew what he wanted to say… one thing in case he had to leave a message… another if she picked up.

He steeled himself, standing outside his door. He took a deep breath, not wanting to go in until he had called her… for some reason.

He found her number, pressed the _call _button. His heart thumped in his throat… he felt himself swallow, his breath felt shallow. _This is what Emma was talking about. _He was so nervous that even his _eyes _even started to go funny.

"_Hi, you've reached Helga's phone. Leave a message after the beep."_

He tried to swallow, to take a breath… his lungs felt tight… _beep. _Shit.

"Hey, Helga… it's Arnold." He closed his eyes… tried to concentrate on forming coherent sentences, on keeping his voice _light. _"I want to talk to you… I know I haven't done anything to make you want to talk to _me, _but I want to change that. If you just want me to fuck off, then let me know, and I'll leave you alone… otherwise, I'll keep trying. I want to make things right with you…"

He paused, forced his lungs to take in breath. It was surprisingly hard.

"Someone said some things tonight that made me finally realise how much of a mistake I made… how badly I screwed up. I can't think of a single thing I did _right _with you… I took you for granted… and I'm sorry." Was that everything he wanted to say? He should have written it down or something.

"I hope you're doing well. 'Nite Helga." He hung up. Somehow, he felt like he had said both too much, and not enough. He sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He went upstairs, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got ready for bed… He itched to check his phone every three seconds, but he forced himself to at least _act _like he was sane.

He was sitting on the sofa, pretending to check his emails, but actually wondering what Helga was doing, if she was already asleep, or hadn't checked her phone, or was ignoring his message again… when his phone jumped to life.

He flinched, grabbed it, swore as it fell out of his hand and bounced across the floor. Hopping on his one good leg, he focussed on balancing as he bent down to pick his phone up. His heart was thrumming, his mouth dry. His thumbs were suddenly so clumsy, he could barely work the buttons to read her message…

_Helga – Try as hard as you want, Shortman._

Now… what was he supposed to make of that?


	14. Chapter 14

"You sure you wanna do this man? You can still back out…" Gerald's hand was on the door of the Tar Whistle, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

Arnold took a deep breath, his palm feeling sweaty around the handle of his guitar case. He nodded. "Yeah… what have I got to lose?"

Gerald chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright then… commence operation _romantic gesture._" He pushed the door open, struggling to get his keyboard through in one piece.

Arnold felt like he might vomit. He hadn't performed in front of an audience in years… not since he was at uni, when he played a few bar gigs with a band he was in for a while. But stage fright wasn't what had his stomach in knots, his hands shaking…

He looked around the bar for her, his eyes scanning the crowd. She was next to the stage, a tuner resting on her knee, her bass in her hands. He always loved watching her play her bass… it just made her look so _badass. _He swallowed.

Gerald leaned his keyboard case against one of the few empty tables. "Drinks are needed… wait here." Arnold just waited. At least when he was sitting down, he couldn't see her through the crowd.

"Drink up." Gerald put a tray down on the table. Two whiskey shots and a pint of lager each. Good.

"Cheers." Arnold clinked his shot glass to Gerald's and tipped the whiskey down his throat. It burned, he coughed.

"Only one more to go." Gerald said through his grimace. "Down the hatch."

The second one went down easier. But Arnold was still relieved to wash the taste away with the beer. "Liquid courage." He grinned, but his smile felt shaky on his face.

"You'll need it." Gerald was still shaking his head. "Want me to sign us up while she's on stage?"

Arnold nodded. He was terrified. He had no idea what would happen… would she ignore him? Would she come say hi? He didn't want to chase her round the bar while she was essentially working… he didn't want to make her feel threatened or anything either. She hadn't invited them here, they had turned up because they _knew _she was at the Tar Whistle every Thursday night. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel stalked, so had to keep out of her hair.

He stared at her when she got up on stage, her head nodding in time to the music she was playing. Her lips were curled up into a little smile. He could see her mouthing the lyrics along with the singer. Her fingers walked across the strings, never missing a beat.

They played _Spread Your Love _by BRMC, and _Song 2 _by Blur, before she took the mic for the last song. "Trying this one out for the first time tonight." She smiled out at the audience. "It's a tricky one to play and sing at the same time… hopefully I don't screw it up."

Within the first two bars, Arnold knew what the song was. He almost groaned.

"I'll go put our names down." Gerald mumbled before making his way across the room to talk to Aaryn.

Arnold barely noticed… watching Helga as he was.

...

_I'm so tired of playing__  
><em>_Playing with this bow and arrow__  
><em>_I'm gonna give my heart away__  
><em>_Leave it to the other girls to play__  
><em>_For I've been a temptress too long_

_Just..._

_Give me a reason to love you__  
><em>_Give me a reason to be a woman__  
><em>_I just wanna be a woman_

_From this time, unchained__  
><em>_We're all looking at a different picture__  
><em>_Through this new frame of mind__  
><em>_A thousand flowers could bloom__  
><em>_Move over and give us some room_

_Give me a reason to love you__  
><em>_Give me a reason to be a woman__  
><em>_I just wanna be a woman_

_So don't you stop being a man__  
><em>_Just take a little look from outside when you can__  
><em>_Show a little tenderness__  
><em>_No matter if you cry_

_Give me a reason to love you__  
><em>_Give me a reason to be a woman__  
><em>_It's all I wanna be is all woman_

_For this is the beginning of forever and ever_

_It's time to move over..._

_I'm so tired of playing__  
><em>_Playing with this bow and arrow__  
><em>_Gonna give my heart away__  
><em>_Leave it to the other girls to play_

_..._

The applause was thunderous… and she deserved it. Her voice was husky, perfectly timed, stressed with emotion. She had nailed it… and it _hurt. _He knew what that song meant… and although she didn't know he was even there, it kinda felt like she was singing it to him. He recognised that it was crazy.

She was so… goddamned… beautiful. His heart was thundering, his chest felt tight, like he was underwater. He wanted to run away, to just get up and walk out, leave the guitar behind. But he had to stay… he knew he _had _to do this. To make some kind of gesture to show Helga he wasn't just _saying _he was sorry… he needed to show her.

He swallowed some more beer, draining the glass, before getting up and getting another round from the bar. His eyes flicked to her as she put her bass away, coiling a cable around her arm, packing it into the back of her little amp.

He saw her see Gerald, the look of pleased surprise on her face. They hugged, talked. She laughed, gestured at the guy doing the sign-ups, laughed again when he said something… but then she froze, her face falling. She blinked, turned to look over the crowd. He hurried back to the table, drinks in hand… too scared to meet her eyes.

_Coward… coward coward coward. _He tried to calm himself. He wanted her to come over and say hi… he wanted it desperately. But he was scared, terrified, that she would look at him with disdain, or disgust, or just laugh in his face. He concentrated on steadying his breath… he couldn't remember _ever _being this nervous.

"She knows we're here." Gerald slid back into his chair. "Cheers for the drink!" He grinned.

Arnold nodded. "Yeah, saw you guys talking." He paused, his fists clenched on the table top. "Did she say anything?"

Gerald shrugged. "She said she might come say hi… she looked kinda… shocked? Scared maybe? I dunno." He took a sip of his beer. "Aaryn put us on early, we should be up pretty soon."

Arnold nodded again, seemingly unable to talk. Where was she? He cast his eyes around the room, but couldn't see her. Chances are he just couldn't see her through all of the people, but it still gnawed at him. What if she just left?

"You OK buddy?"

He forced himself to swallow. "Yeah… nerves."

Gerald just chuckled. "Down that drink… I don't usually condone booze as a romantic lubricant, but in this case, I think it's warranted."

He was right… they didn't have to wait long at all till Aaryn signalled that they were on next. He swallowed, looked for Helga as he moved through the crowd. Weird to think that last time he had been in this bar, he had been worried about falling over… and now all he gave a shit about was having Helga forgive him… where if he'd just been less worried about his leg in the first place, he never would have pushed her away.

He couldn't see her. He hoped she was just in the bathroom, or upstairs in the VIP room. He plugged his guitar into an amp, settled on a tall stool (those stools always made him feel like Kurt Cobain... silly really) and cleared his throat. Leaning into the mic, he mumbled:

"Hi. I'm Arnold, that guy there is Gerald…" Gerald raised an eyebrow. "We're a bit rusty… so bear with us." He still couldn't see her… he could see the entire bar from up on stage… there were no lights up to blind him or anything… she just wasn't there.

He started playing, softly strumming out the chords… there was nothing he could do now… he just had to grit his teeth and play… and hope she was listening.

...

_My girl, my girl had a hold on me__  
><em>_So tight, so tight that I could not see__  
><em>_Girl, she had a hold on me, she held so tight that I could not see__  
><em>_My girl, my girl had a hold on me_

_One day, one day I let her go__  
><em>_It hurt, it hurt so, you'll never know__  
><em>_The day I had to let her go, it hurt so bad that you cannot know__  
><em>_One day, one day I let her go_

_At night, at night I cry alone__  
><em>_I weep, I weep 'til the early morn'__  
><em>_At night, I cry alone, I weep all night, til the early morn'__  
><em>_At night, at night I cry alone_

_..._

There was applause… he was kinda shocked. He had been so worried about Helga that he hadn't really paid any attention to the rest of the audience. "Uh, thanks." He looked around the room.

She was there.

She was there, sitting alone on the stairs, her hand balled at the base of her throat… his heart leaped, he felt himself smile with relief. She was there and she was looking straight at him. _Her eyes. _She smiled… a wan, tired smile, but at least she didn't sneer. OK… he could do this.

He forced his eyes to break from hers, looked out to the where the rest of the audience was looking up at him. "Uh, Kahlil Gibran once wrote '_Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation._' Or, to put it plainly, I fucked up, and I regret it." He smiled. "Suffice to say, there is a reason I'm playing these songs..." He looked back to where Helga sat on the stairs - her eyes wide – and nodded to her as he began to play…

...

_I, I can't promise you__  
><em>_that I won't let you down__  
><em>_And I, I can't promise you__  
><em>_that I will be the only one around__  
><em>_when your hope falls down_

_But we're young, open flowers in the windy fields_

_of this war-torn world__  
><em>_And love, this city breathes the plague__  
><em>_of loving things more than their creators_

_I ran away__  
><em>_I could not take the burden of both me and you__  
><em>_It was too fast__  
><em>_Casting love on me as if it were a spell I could not break__  
><em>_When it was a promise I could not make_

_But what if I was wrong?_

_But hold on to what you believe in the light_

_When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight_

_And now this land means less and less to me__  
><em>_without you breathing through its trees__  
><em>_At every turn the water runs away from me__and the halo disappears__  
><em>_I'm not whole when you're not near_

_So what if I was wrong?_

_But hold on to what you believe in the light__  
><em>_When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight_

_So hold on to what you believed in the light_

_..._

Applause again. He sighed in relief, his eyes flicked to the stairs. She was crying, he just caught the glint of a tear on her cheek before she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Uh, thanks." He stood, clumsily, his guitar dangling from his hand. He wanted to throw it down and run to her. _I made her cry! _His stomach knotted. Why did she look so _sad?_

By the time he threw his guitar into his case, pushed his way through the throng of people, many of whom tried to stop him, talk to him, compliment him… she was gone.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

The songs?

Glory Box – Portishead

I Cry Alone – The Black Keys

Hold On To What You Believe – Mumford and Sons

Check them all out, they're all great : )


	15. Chapter 15

He didn't hear from her for days. He sent her a text, asking if she was OK. He called her, but she didn't pick up. He wanted to go to her apartment, bang on the door until she finally agreed to talk to him… but he couldn't invade her space like that.

"You… Arnold… are fucking _bold."_ Gerald had grinned, his feet on Arnold's coffee table. "That line? It was genius!"

"But she didn't _do _anything! She just left!" Arnold moaned, another beer in his hand.

Gerald shrugged. "It doesn't matter man, give her a few days to think about it…" he laughed, let out a whistle. "A bone-fide grand romantic gesture…" He put his arm over Arnold's should, took a big swig of his drink, draining the bottle. "It was everything I _dreamed _it would be." He fluttered his eyelashes, swooning dramatically against Arnold's arm.

Despite his nerves, Arnold laughed, shoving Gerald off him. "You really think she'll get in touch? She was _crying! _And she hasn't replied to my text…"

Gerald groaned. "Jesus man… don't over think it! You just did something _awesome_… let her digest it, roll it around a while. You'll be fine, I promise." He stood, put his empty on the table. "I gotta go, work in the morning n' all. Lemme know what happens, OK?"

"Yeah, OK. 'Nite Gerald."

"Seeya… Romeo." Gerald winked, before swanning melodramatically from the apartment.

… but that had been days before, and he still hadn't heard from her. He was restless, always pacing. Jon had laughed at him, telling him he needed to work off more energy in the gym… so he had… He pushed himself hard, harder perhaps than he had before Jon had set him a goal. Now he was just working so he could concentrate on the burn in his muscles, instead of the churning ache in his stomach.

"Hey there, stranger?" Emma grinned at him, lounging in a chair in the hospital hallway.

"Hi…" he plonked down next to her. "Waiting for Ben?"

She smiled, nudged him with her elbow. "Nah, I'm waiting for you… figured we could go horseback riding." Her smile lit up her face.

He fidgeted for a second. "Would it be completely prickish of me to ask for your advice?" He could feel himself blushing… the last thing he wanted to do was hurt a friend. Emma had been pretty awesome after their _break up_… but still, he realised that talking to her about Helga was pretty callous.

"Ohhh, what did you do?" She twisted to face him better, put on her _listening face. _He laughed, despite himself. She could be a total goof when she wanted.

"Uh… you know how Helga sent me that cryptic message?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh…" She eyeballed him. "So… what did you do?"

He swallowed. "I, uh, might have gone and sung _I messed up _songs at that open mic night that she hosts…" He couldn't look at her face, both embarrassed and worried. "She bolted, haven't heard from her since."

She laughed… a real, hearty belly laugh. Arnold fliched.

"Oh… oh, I'm sorry Arnold… but that's awesome…" She sniffed, straightened her back, a twisted smile crinkling her eyes up. "Not her running away, of course… but the song thing. I thought you didn't _like _romantic comedies!" She grinned.

"Oh shut up." He sighed, smiling. "I don't know what to do!"

She shrugged. "Just leave it… was this last week?" he nodded. "So let her sit on it for a while. Then try something else… maybe something a little less, uh, intense." She beamed at him. "Seriously, that's awesome."

"What if she just wants me to fuck off though? And now I'm inadvertently harassing her?"

"Is she the kind of person who would tell you to piss off if you were annoying her?"

He laughed a little at that. "Yes." Unequivocally _yes. _Arnold didn't know _anyone _more likely to voice their displeasure. "OK… you're right. Thanks… and sorry… again."

"No problem, dork. You wanna come to dinner with us?"

He smiled. "Sure, if Ben doesn't mind?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah… 'cos Ben _hates _talking nerdy sci-fi crap."

On impulse he reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her. She giggled. "You're good people, Emmy-poohs."

She squirmed her arm up and ruffled his damp hair. "Aw… you're not too bad yourself, Dickhead."

…

He was on the sofa when his phone went off. His heart pounded briefly, as it always did when he got a message or a call recently. He put his book down and slid his hand into his pocket. Who would be texting him at… 20:21 on a Tuesday night? _Please let it be…_

_Gerald – Dude… you check your mail?_

Damn… no, he had forgotten… he had been busy reminding himself to pull his Riddick DVD's out for Ben. He groaned, swung his legs off the sofa.

_Arnold – No, why? Is it worth going downstairs for?_

He would go down anyway, of course. He hated leaving the mail in the box… even though there was never anything good in there anyway.

He was in the elevator when he got a reply.

_Gerald – Oh. Hell. Yes. Go check!_

There was a wad of envelopes crammed in to the little box, he flicked quickly through them, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were two fun-looking things. One square envelope, containing a CD or DVD or something… and a shiny white envelope, the kind that tended to contain wedding invitations.

He opened the invitation-looking one first… laughing out loud when he read the names on the pretty white paper.

_Arnold – SID? O_O_

He dumped the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter, taking the invite and the CD into the lounge.

_Gerald – I know, right! You wanna be my plus 1, big boy?_

_Arnold – You know it, lover ;)_

He was still chuckling to himself when he opened the other envelope. It was just a CD, with his name written on it. Weird. He flipped it over… there was information on it, definitely. But he wasn't about to stick an unidentified CD straight into his computer…

He got up and hobbled over to his stereo… his legs were really aching from the earlier punishment at the gym… He stuck the disc into the CD tray and pressed play.

His heart stuck in his throat.

…

_Can you lie next to her__  
><em>_And give her your heart, your heart__  
><em>_As well as your body__  
><em>_And can you lie next to her__  
><em>_And confess your love, your love__  
><em>_As well as your folly_

___And can you kneel before the king__  
><em>_And say I'm clean, I'm clean___

_But tell me now, where was my fault__  
><em>_In loving you with my whole heart__  
><em>_But tell me now, where was my fault__  
><em>_In loving you with my whole heart___

_A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage__  
><em>_You did not think when you sent me to the brink, the brink__  
><em>_You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections___

_Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life__  
><em>

…

He just stood there, gaping at the stereo as it accused him... there was no one else that could have sent this to him… He knew this song, well… it was _White Blank Page _by Mumford and Sons… the same band that he had covered at the Tar Whistle.

Those lines….

He pressed play again… listening to the words… he couldn't think of a single song that could wound him more.

_... give her your heart, as well as your body…_

… _where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart…_

… _you desired my attention, but denied my affections…_

Shit.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"But what does it _mean?_" Arnold stood in front of Gerald as they listened to the song, his hands knotted, his forehead creased with frustration.

"Honestly man, I think it means you have a shot." Gerald leaned back, looked up at Arnold, and smiled. "I mean… she's hurt, yeah? But she's not telling you to get fucked."

Arnold just frowned.

Gerald sighed. "OK… if I had to, uh, interpret this…" he gestured to his laptop, where _White Blank Page _was playing on repeat "… then I'd say she's upset that you never, uh, I dunno… _connected _with her? But that she still wants you to try." He shrugged. "Balls in your court, man… she'll tell you to piss off if she gets sick of it, right?" Arnold nodded. "So do something else."

"What?"

He shrugged again. "I dunno. Maybe write her a letter or something?"

Arnold nodded, sat down.

"And fuck, man… calm down!" Gerald chuckled. "You're not going to explode or anything… take your time." He stretched out, put his feet on the coffee table. "I can find out if she's going to the wedding, if you like." He grinned. "I'm hoping maybe Phoebe'll be going…"

"That's a good idea… it won't be as, uh, stalker-ish if I try talk to her on, uh, neutral ground." Arnold nodded. "Thanks for putting up with this shit man."

"Don't you pay it no nevermind, Shortman." Gerald stretched. "I got your back."

... …. … … … … … … … … ... …. … … … … … … … … ... …. … … … … … … … …

_Wish enough, wise man'll tell you a lie__  
><em>_Window broke, torn up screens__  
><em>_Who'd have thought that you'd dream__  
><em>_Of a single tragic scene ___

_I just wanna sing a song with you__  
><em>_I just want to take it off of you___

_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_You are all that I need__  
><em>_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_You're the sweet to my mean___

_Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand__  
><em>_I can help you to stand__  
><em>_Saved it up for this dance__  
><em>_Tell me all the things you can___

_I just wanna sing a song with you__  
><em>_I just wanna be the one that's true___

_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_You're the secret I keep__  
><em>_Cause Blue Eyes___

_All the lights on and you are alive__  
><em>_But you can't point the way to your heart__  
><em>_So sublime, when the stars are aligned__  
><em>_But you don't know__  
><em>_You don't know the greatness you are___

_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_You are destiny's scene__  
><em>_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_I just wanna be the one___

_I just wanna sing a song with you__  
><em>_I just wanna get it on with you___

_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_You're the secret I keep__  
><em>_Cause Blue Eyes__  
><em>_I just wanna sing a song with you…_

…

Arnold pushed the square envelope into Helga's letterbox… wondering what her face would look like when she listened to the song… wondered if she would believe what he was telling her.

_When did this change from wanting to say sorry, to wanting to say "_I love you"_?_


	16. Chapter 16

"I can't believe _Sid's _getting hitched." Gerald mused, leaning up against the wall of the hotel elevator as they rode it down from their floor.

"He's getting married to a marine biologist who specialises in amphibians… I can't believe they waited so long." Arnold chuckled.

"C'mon, lets mingle." Gerald heaved himself upright and through the doors as they opened. There were people _everywhere… _

"Yay, mingling, my favourite thing." Arnold groaned, grinning when Gerald shot him his '_not now'_ look. "Sorry, darling." He chirped.

"Gerald! Arnold!" Rhonda was waving from across the foyer. A little clutch in her fingers, huge round sunglasses perched on her little nose.

Arnold braced himself. He had no idea if these people knew about his leg or not. The last thing he wanted was to spend all day explaining why he looked like the loader from Aliens 3.

"Oh Arnold! You're here!" A soft voice giggled in his ear. _Lila. _He stopped trying to walk and turned to where she stood, just a yard away. _Fuck she's pretty. _She looked exactly like how he would have expected. Her reddish-brown hair was tucked into a loose bun thing, with little curls hanging around her face. Her dress was demure, a little silky blue thing, plain little heels on her feet. _I bet she still smells like fruit._

"Lila! Ah, hi!" He smiled. He opened his arms as she stepped towards him, clasping him in a brief hug.

"Oh Arnold, I heard about your accident, and I am just so sorry! Are you terribly in pain? Can I get you anything?"

Arnold cringed. Great… _ I should have expected this, especially from her. _"Uh, no, no thanks Lila. I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure? I can get you a chair if you have to sit down."

_Oh fucking hell. Could this be any more emasculating?_ How on earth could he ask her to shut the fuck up, without making her cry? Lila had always been prone to the waterworks.

"I, uh, I should probably go say hi to Rhonda." He heard himself say to Lila, suddenly not caring how fruity she might smell.

Lila didn't miss a beat. "OK Arnold." She slipped her hand into his arm, holding on to his elbow like they were a courting couple from the twenties.

"Arnold, you look _fantastic." _Rhonda grasped him in a hug, forcing Lila to let him go. At least that was one small mercy. "You always did look amazing in a suit."

"And you, Miss Wellington Lloyd, couldn't be more stunning." He grinned at her. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were the second coming of Jackie Onassis."

She giggled. "Oh Arnold, you always know just what to say." She batted her eyelashes, smiled, smoothed out the tight skirt of her red dress. He laughed, knowing Rhonda's hammy act for exactly what it was.

He and Rhonda had become pretty good friends in the last few years of high school. In fact, he had been the first person she had come out to, and the person she had turned to when coming out to Nadine had blown up in her face and she had turned into a social pariah.

Thankfully, all that drama was over for her now. No one cared she was gay anymore, she was still _Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. _

"How long till this show gets on the road?" Gerald asked, his arm around Lila's shoulder. Arnold envied him that, how easily he touched people. Arnold wasn't good with just readily touching others, he was always worried it would be taken the wrong way.

"We should probably get inside." Rhonda checked the slim gold watch on her slim tanned wrist. "If we want to get a good seat. Which we do." She grinned her sly, sharkish grin. "Unless I see it with my own eyes, I will _never _believe that Sid is getting married…"

"Phoebe!" Gerald lifted his arm from Lila's shoulder and strode across the marble floor. Arnold turned in time to see Gerald sweep Phoebe up into his arms. She was grinning, giggling…

… but he didn't really pay much attention… he swallowed… _She came. _Her short hair was a little darker, a little redder than he remembered… _Oh god. _Her eyes slid to his, she smiled weakly, her gaze fluttering away.

"Helga!" Rhonda pushed past him to grasp her in a hug.

… … …

"I see who you're watching." Rhonda stage whispered, her elbows on the table, a glass of bubbly in her hand.

Arnold flinched. "Uh… I, uh…"

She laughed. "It's OK, I won't tell anyone." She leaned up against him, put her head on his shoulder, and watched along with him.

Helga was dancing with Harold, simultaneously laughing and frowning, trying to avoid having her toes trampled. The dress she was wearing was some kind of vintage cocktail dress, in a strange silky fabric that changed from green to orange, depending on the angle you looked at it. It made her shine.

He had spent the entire ceremony conscious of her, sitting a few seats over, at the end of his row, with Phoebe and Gerald between them. He hadn't been able to say anything to her, other than a mumbled "_Hi."_ He didn't know what to say… or, he wanted to tell her he was sorry so badly that his brain couldn't function around small talk…

Rhonda sighed. "I can't blame you. If I had a chance with her…" she trailed off, laughing a little to herself. "Who would have thought… that one day Helga Pataki would be lusted after by both men and women alike."

Arnold wasn't about to admit that he _had _gotten a chance, but had been too chicken to take it. He put his arm around Rhonda's shoulder, leaned his cheek against her hair. "If anyone could turn her Rhonda, it'd be you."

She laughed. "You're sweet to say so, but that girl isn't straight."

He fought the urge to splutter. _Helga isn't straight? What the fuck? _"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that she's not straight." She paused, letting it sink in a little. "She may not be gay, but she certainly isn't _heterosexual_." She sighed. "She just isn't interested in me. That much I know."

"Uh… how… if you don't mind me asking."

"I may have drunkenly propositioned her a while back." Rhonda shrugged. "To her credit, she hasn't been weird about it at all. She's a seriously cool woman, Arnold. Did you know she writes extensively on LGBT rights?"

"No… I, uh, I didn't know that." What else didn't he know about her?

"She also does free work for the disabled, taking dictation for people who want their voice heard, but can't physically type or write." Rhonda sighed again. "She's a better person than most."

He watched her, she was now dancing with Gerald, looking much more comfortable in the arms of a man who knew what he was doing. Gerald caught Arnold's eye over her should and winked. The asshole.

_He needed to ask her to dance… _

"I'm in love with her." He blurted, tensing himself for the onslaught of nosey questions… but she didn't exclaim or gasp or anything, she just laughed.

"No shit." She sighed, her head still on his shoulder.

He didn't know what to say…

"You think I don't know about you two?" She chuckled. "Helga and I are _friends_." She sighed again. "I was the one who got her the Film Festival gig… you know, the one you dumped her at?" He cringed.

"I just wanna talk to her…" he croaked, his voice quieter than he thought it would be, his throat tight.

"Honestly… what is wrong with you?" She sat up straight, turned to glare at him. "If you want to talk to her, go _fucking talk to her." _She shook her head. "You two are fucking pathetic. You're obviously _in love. _Stop being such a goddamned coward and go ask her to dance… I know she wants to you."

She was laughing, leaning back in Gerald's arms, her eyes on Phoebe, as the smaller girl tried to dance with the best man. Stinky was about 6'4"… Phoebe barely came up to his chest. _She's so fucking beautiful. _

"_Do it._" Rhonda hissed. "Or I'll make a scene, and you _do not _want that." She was glaring, her eyes a little glazed… she'd obviously had more than a few glasses of that bubbly.

He grinned, despite himself. "Yes mam!" He pushed himself to his feet. _Do it quick, like pulling off a plaster… don't think about it… _He took a deep breath, moved around his table to the dance floor. _Oh god… ohgodohgodohgod. _

Gerald saw him coming, grinned, edged Helga closer.

He felt like his feet weren't touching the ground, like he was sitting a foot behind his own head, staring down at himself. "May I cut in?" He heard himself say… but he didn't think the words before they came out of his mouth.

Gerald was grinning, Helga twisted her head around, her eyes catching his… her mouth opened, her eyes wide… she stammered…

"Sure!" Gerald beamed, and basically threw her at him, turning straight around to steal Phoebe back off Stinky.

_How did she get here? _She was in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, her face looking… shocked.

Time was moving strangely.

"Hi." He smiled, his hands at her waist. Without thinking, he had moved to her… _like I know her. _

"Uh… hi." She blinked. Her hands were on his shoulders, they moved together, in a strange kind of waltz.

He stared at her… everything he had wanted to say had flown from his head as soon as he had looked into her eyes. Shit.

"I missed you." He tried to smile, his muscles felt stiff… he was so nervous, but excited, and scared. He didn't know what he was… was he happy? He had this strange feeling of relief… _like when you pull off that plaster… _

She smiled, a shy little smile. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, her cheeks blushed. She nodded a little, her mouth opened, but she didn't say anything.

"Did you get my CD?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the fabric of her dress slipping over her skin as her hips moved.

She looked back up at him, nodded again.

"I didn't want to, uh, harass you…"

"You didn't." She whispered. "I…" she swallowed. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry." His heart thumped. _She's here… she's in my arms… she's talking to me… _His hands tugged her a little closer, he forgot they were on a crowded dance floor…

She didn't say anything, just swayed with him. He couldn't say how long they were out there for, who he spoke to as they danced past, what songs played… all he knew was that she was pressed against him, moving against him. Sometime later, something was said about cutting the cake, and they were separated. He watched her, a piece of cake on a little plate in her hand, having her photo taken with Phoebe. He watched them put their heads together, giggling.

By the time the cake had been cut, some more drinks had been drunk, the bouquet tossed (caught by one of the bride's friends) and the garter thrown (caught by Sid's cousin) a few more dances danced and a few impromptu, drunken toasts toasted, it was late. The bride and groom left, in amongst cheers and lewd jokes… Phoebe and Gerald snuck away. Harold undid the top button of his pants, Stinky started making out with one of the bridesmaids. The father of the bride danced with one of the waitresses and Sid's grandfather fell asleep in his chair.

Arnold didn't get to dance with Helga again. He wanted to, he keep finding her looking at him over the shoulder of other men, across tables, from behind her wineglass… she could catch his eye, blush, avert her gaze… then look back, smiling and blushing deeper when he was still looking, smiling. His stomach was churning… he wanted to grab her and pull her aside, to get somewhere private, to tell her everything he had wanted to tell her, but had forgotten when she was pressed up against his chest.

_Fuck._

But the party wound down, and Arnold didn't gather his courage before Helga and Rhonda went stumbling from the room, Rhonda still looking like a magazine cover, Helga's heels dangling from her fingers.

Arnold sighed, heaved himself up, cursing himself. He never took chances when he should… He bid goodnight to the people around him, patted an ill-looking Harold on the back, and made his way to his room.

He was tired, but wound up. He took a hot shower, towelled off, tugged on trackpants and a T shirt, and lay on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

He had a book to read, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it. He just lay there, sprawled over the unfamiliar, hotel comforter, and day-dreamed. What could he have done differently? What would she have done if he had tried to kiss her? He hadn't even thought about it when they had been dancing… but now that he was back in his room, this strange, hired room… he felt like maybe he had let a chance go by.

He closed his eyes, wondering what she was doing, wondering if he should try find out what room she was in…. when there was a bang on the door.

His eyes flew open. "Uh, hold on…" He struggled upright, balancing on his one leg, hopping awkwardly to the door. "Who is it?"

There was a low chuckle from the other side of the door. "Helga… you free to entertain a visitor?"


	17. Chapter 17

"Uh… just a sec?" Arnold panicked, his leg was leaning against the armchair in the corner, which was strewn with his discarded clothes… the room was a mess, odd, seeing as he hadn't been there long.

"Are you decent?" Her voice was muffled through the door.

"Yeah."

"Then hurry up! I'm in my pyjamas out here!" His heart melted a little, he had never seen her in what she slept in…

"Um… I'll, uh, just…" _I don't have my leg on!_ He hadn't thought about his leg all night, but now…

"You better not be putting that _fucking _leg on." Her voice was low, still kinda playful, but he got the hint. He opened the door.

"Hi." She smiled, her face turned up to him. He raked his eyes up and down her… she was bare footed, wearing tight leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that came halfway down her thighs, but clung over her shoulders, hips, breasts... the remnants of make-up clung to her eyelashes, making her eyes dark, almost bruised looking…

He swallowed. "Hi, uh, come in…" She walked past him, he closed the door, tried to move without her seeing him… _hopping _was such an ungainly way to get around.

She slipped past him, turning to face him as he shut the door. "Can I ask a massive favour?"

"Anything." He smiled.

"Can I stay here tonight? Phoebe and Gerald came crashing back into the room I was sharing with Phoebes… it was, uh, awkward."

Arnold grinned. "Yeah, sure." He gestured to the bed. "Make yourself at home."

"You don't mind?" She looked nervous, one hand cupping the elbow of her other arm.

He took a deep breath as she looked into his eyes. _So blue. _He struggled to keep his lungs full… it felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. "Of course not… I was just getting in when you knocked… I can't offer to sleep on the sofa or anything though, sorry."

She smiled, still nervous looking. "That's fine, obviously… I don't want to impose."

Arnold shrugged. "You're not." He hopped over to the bed, dying of shame inside, but trying not to show it. "You wanna watch some shitty TV or something?"

She nodded. "I suppose so… I'm not that tired."

He threw her the remote, pulled back the covers. "Do you care which side you sleep on?" He tried to smile. Nerves and shame were burning through him, churning up his stomach. She shook her head. "Wanna cup of tea or anything?"

She shook her head. "I'd love one, but I just brushed my teeth, and I don't have my toothbrush with me…"

He shrugged. "I don't care if you use mine." _How the hell is she here? How am I offering my toothbrush? Why are we acting like this is normal, when it's so obviously not?_

She shrugged, moved hesitantly to the bed. "That's OK…" She used the remote to turn the TV on, slid onto the sheet.

She stretched her legs straight out, her feet sticking up. Her nails were perfectly painted this time, a deep green. He traced the lines of her feet… wondering if he could draw them later, from memory.

She flicked around channels until she came across _Predator. _"Oh, it's not far in, you wanna watch?" Her voice changed, it was lighter…

"Sure." _Nothing like watching cheesy action movies with the girl of your dreams… even if you can't touch her. _He smiled at her, watched as the light from the screen danced on her eyes.

At least she relaxed, by the end of the movie, she had rolled half onto her side, one leg splayed out, her arm beneath her pillow, her eyes on the TV. She grinned when the credits started rolling, twisting her spine and stretching her arms up. "I _love _that movie." She smiled up at him, "You think they'll play _Predator 2 _next?"

Arnold shrugged, stifling a yawn. "Couldn't tell you… can you check on that thing?"

"You're tired." Helga stated simply. She turned the TV off, casting the room suddenly into darkness… she had turned the bedside lamp off, sometime during the film. "We can just go to sleep."

_Like hell I'll sleep. _"I don't mind if you wanna watch more." He protested, but his voice died off, his stomach clenched as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his arm.

"What are you sorry for?" voice was soft, sad.

"You mean… with… with us?"

She nodded, he could feel her head moved against his shirt. "In your messages, you said you were sorry… what for?"

That was… sudden. "Everything." He let out a breath… this was one of the things he had planned on saying, he tried to remember… "I'm sorry for, uh, starting something with you when I wasn't ready. But I'm sorry for not being ready." He shifted towards her a little, his foot touched hers. "I'm sorry that I never, uh, did anything with you. I'm sorry for keeping my distance. I am _so _sorry for ending it the way that I did… for not explaining that it was _me_ that was fucked up, not you, not, um, _us…_"

He sighed. "I suppose I'm mostly sorry for never talking to you, about anything… for, uh, taking you for granted… I'm sorry I never told you how I felt."

In the dark, he heard her breath stutter a little. "How did you feel?"

_Oh god. _"Oh god, Helga… I was crazy about you." He wanted to run away, the nerves in his stomach were leaping into his throat. He was terrified, but he couldn't fuck this up, not again. She deserved this, at least.

"Was?" Her hand crept out, pressing just the very tips of her fingers against the side of his hand.

He swallowed… what was she asking? "I… I _am_ crazy about you…" he whispered. _Jesus…. _He had no idea what was going on…

She leaned forward, leaned her chin against the top of his shoulder. "I liked dancing with you." She whispered. Her breath brushed the side of his neck, his ear, sent shivers across his skin. He was stiffening inside his trackpants, conscious of how badly he wanted to touch her.

"I kinda owed you one." He smiled. God, it felt good to be close to her. His hand shifted, he pushed his index finger beneath her palm. She shuffled closer, pressing her knee to his thigh. He turned to face her, his eyes growing used to the dark.

"I missed you." He said simply, his eyes on her face, faintly visible against the white sheets, so nervous his stomach felt like ice.

"You already said that." There was laughter in her voice.

_Oh yeah, that's right._ He stroked the palm of her hand with his finger. She made a little noise… _Oh god. _

"I missed you too." She admitted in a whisper. "Even if I was angry at you."

"If I could go back and do it all again, I would do it differently." His thumb grazed her wrist. She was so _warm_, so _alive._

"Yeah?" Her voice dropped, she shifted closer again… "and what would you do if you could start it again?"

His stomach twinged, just below his navel… _Was that... a come-on? _"I'd do what you wanted."

"Did you have any idea how much I liked you?" Her voice shook a little.

He groaned. "I'm so sorry." He rolled towards her a little, pulling his arm away from her to put it under his head, but touching her with his other hand, trailing his fingers up her wrist…

"I kept telling you I didn't give a shit about your leg… and I really, really don't." Her voice was almost pleading.

"I know… I'm sorry."

"I tried to be patient… I mean… I didn't pressure you, did I?"

He shook his head… he felt so awful. How could he make her see that she hadn't done anything wrong?

"Sometimes I think I should have just jumped you." She said, her voice soft, but her tone stern. "Like… if I had just crawled into bed with you and _shown_ you that I think you're… you're gorgeous… that you would have gotten over your… thing…"

She _was _in bed with him… the thought of her, all warm and round and… soft… if she just moved now, pressed herself against him… He swallowed. He was close to throbbing, his cock aching for her touch.

"I'd…" he swallowed again. "I want you… I always wanted you… you're… beautiful."

She was quiet for a minute, her breath shaking in and out of her lungs, the tension, the _closeness_ of her making him feel woozy. He could smell her… that sweet, clean smell.

She shifted closer…

"Show me." She whispered.

It took him a minute to realise what she meant...

"Fucking hell, Helga." He groaned, he rolled further towards her, met her as they moved together. She lay her head on his arm, he moved forward, buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of her.

Her thighs rode up his, he flinched as her knee traced the end of his _stump_, but she was shifting against him, her breath shuddering… it was hard to care about his defect when she whimpered, gasping a little when he touched the soft skin at the inside of her elbow.

Her hands grasped at his T shirt, clinging to the fabric. His arm moved around her, pulling her close. "I missed you so much." He groaned against her skin. "I am so sorry…"

She arched her back, pressed her lips to his hair, ran her hand over his ribs. "Just touch me." She gasped.

His hands grasped at her ribs, sliding the fabric across her skin. She wriggled beneath his palms, her arms came up to wrap around his neck, her fingers traced the contour of his shoulders, the ridges between the muscles of his arms.

"You're bigger…" she moaned, pressing her lips to a small patch of exposed skin above the collar of his T shirt.

"Gym." He said simply, groaning when she ran a hand down his chest. He was so hard it hurt, he wanted to enter her… anywhere. He wanted to feel her around him. His fingers felt her ribs, counting them as they bumped over them, pressing his fingers lengthways against them, trying to fit his digits into the corrugations of bone beneath her skin. She groaned… and the noise made his stomach cramp, his cock twitch…

Her hand caught his, her breath gasping, she ran his palm down, into the valley made by her waist, up to the swell of her hip… his fingers found the hem of her shirt, she slid his hand back, over hip and waist, to her ribs… but beneath the fabric, his skin against hers. There was electricity crackling between them… he could feel the tiny hairs on her skin, the blood thumping through her veins…

Her mouth found his ear, breathing against him… "Touch me." She pleaded, her back arched, her skin hot to the touch.

Her breast was heavy in his hand, her nipple hard, she whimpered. He edged his arm out from beneath her head, found her face with his hand, and kissed her. "You're perfect." He groaned against her mouth, revelling in the taste of her.

She bit his lip, arched her hips against him. She gasped as his thumb rolled over her nipple. "Ohmygod." She groaned.

Her hand slid down to the bottom of his shirt, moved underneath it to slide across his stomach, grasped at his sides, her fingers digging into his skin. "I feel like I'm going to burst." Her voice was low, her tongue ran along the inside of his upper lip, her thighs shuddered.

Her fingers traced the waistband of his trackpants, lightly skimming over his skin. The muscles of his stomach jumped at her soft touch, the skin humming as her fingertips pushed between the fabric and his skin. He tensed.

"Helga… I…" he gasped, torn. He wanted her touch, wanted it so bad it hurt… but he was still scared, still self-conscious.

"It's OK." She whispered, mumbling her lips from his mouth to his neck. "Do you want me to?" Her teeth bit lightly at his skin… _I never knew this could feel _this _good._

"Oh god, more than anything."

"Then trust me…" she pushed her fingers further into his pants, her fingertips bumping against his head.

"Trust me." She breathed.


	18. Chapter 18

Her fingers wrapped around him, her mouth was pressed to his, she murmured as she kissed him, as she touched him. "_You're gorgeous._" She whispered, her breath in his lungs.

Nothing had ever felt so good. She pressed herself against him, one hand in his pants, the other tugged his top up, sliding around the back, pulling it up, over his head, forcing him to take his hands from her.

She stroked him, pulsing, hot in her hand. He had never felt so hard… he couldn't think… "_I want you_…" she was gasping, her mouth was on his neck, her back was arched. His hands found her, the soft flesh of her stomach, her hips… he pushed his fingers under the waistband of her leggings and was rewarded with a whimper as he grasped her ass, pulling her hard against him.

His hands roved over her ass, grasping at her. His teeth were on her shoulder… he was _so close_… he could feel himself getting harder… there were pressed tight together, every inch of them shoved hard together.

She made a high, gasping giggle. "_Oh god_…" She took her hand from him, making him groan in protest. She laughed, panting… She rolled her hips against him, found his mouth with hers. "_Wanna get naked?"_ He could hear the laughter in her voice… she sounded giddy, _happy. _

He groaned, nodded. "Fuck…" He didn't know it could feel like this. He'd had sex with plenty of girls, before his accident… but he had never felt this… not this crackling static. He put his knee between hers, rolled her onto her back. She moaned. His cock jumped at the noise_. _He wanted her in a way he had never wanted before. She made him hot, fevered. He had a strange lump in his throat, a primal, angry feeling… but _good. _

Leaning over her kinda lopsidedly, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, tugging gently at them. "_Please_." She keened. _Fuck _she was sexy. She wriggled out of her leggings, kicking them off her feet. She arched her back, raised her arms. God… she was beautiful. He pulled her shirt up, gazing at her in the dim light… her white skin, her small, yet somehow heavy breasts, her soft stomach… he pulled the top from her arms, dropping it behind him.

_Oh god._ She was _naked. _Lying beneath him, squirming and panting and _begging _him. Her hands came back up to his pants, touching him softly through the fabric. She grinned when she felt his cock jump under her fingers.

He fell to her. Her skin was hot, electrifying him. He wanted to bite her, to push inside of her. "Oh my _god." _Her voice was high, desperate. "_Touch me."_

His hands grasped at her stomach, feeling the flesh give under his fingers… he dragged down to her curls, pushed the heel of his hand flat against her. She whimpered, shuddered. His hand came away wet.

She pushed at his trackpants. "_Naked_." She gasped, her voice hoarse, heavy, husky. He baulked… _the stump. _He felt his hands stiffen, his back flinch a little.

She stilled, raised a hand to his face. "_Please, Arnold… I want to be with you_…" She pleaded. "_I want you inside me_." Her thighs shook.

What could he do? He had to get over it one day… fear gripped his stomach as he nodded, glad the room was dark. "OK."

She pushed his pants down, sliding one hand briefly inside and rubbing at his cock as the other hand ran over his ass. She got them halfway down his thighs, leaning up to kiss him, her chest rising and falling with her fast, heavy breaths. Her thighs came up, circling his waist, she caught her toes in the waist band of his pants and tugged them down to his ankle.

He cringed as her bare calf dragged along the end of his aborted leg. He leaned back quickly to tug his pants from his foot, and held himself above her.

He could see the glint of her teeth in the dark as she grinned. He tried to talk himself down. _It's OK… it's OK… she's still here… she's here, and naked, and beautiful… she doesn't care about my leg… just… just look at her, touch her… _He bent his back, moved to put his mouth over her nipple.

Her hands grasped at him, she squealed. Her thighs slid back up his legs, around his hips… they were pressed together, the length of his cock nestled into the folds of her. She was _so wet._

"_I need to come."_ Her gasp was soft, he shivered as she pushed her hand between them… he could feel her moving, working at herself, the backs of her fingers pressing against his head as she rubbed at herself.

"_Kiss me." _She groaned… She made a long, low, strangled kind of a noise, arched her back, rolled her hips.

His mouth was on hers as he slid into her, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He shifted his hips, dragged the length of him down her hot, wet slit, and shunted forward, pushing his head into her.

"_Fuck._" They moaned simultaneously. He moved in and out of her, trying not to slam against her too hard. Now that his cock was inside her, he wanted all of him in her… he wanted his tongue in her ear, his fingers in her mouth… he couldn't get close enough.

She writhed under him, the rocking of her hips matching his thrusts… her legs tugging him in closer, further… his arms slid under her waist, hefted her up, forcing her back to arch. Her hand was jammed between them, her fingers circling furiously. He could feel the tension in her body, stringing her taut.

He pressed his mouth to her collarbone. "I'm gonna come." He groaned, his head knocking at the end of her. She was squeezing him, the muscles of her pussy contracting, pulling him in further… he groaned…

Her thighs clenched, she almost screamed, a high, protesting noise came from behind her clenched teeth… she was shaking. "_Now! Now… now now now…."_ Her voice was hoarse, rushed…

He saw stars as he came inside her. His cock pulsed, cramped… he pushed hard inside her, his head pressed hard up against the end of her…

She collapsed, her body falling down against the mattress… her thighs were still shaking, her legs slid down his, her calf grazing his _stump _again, but this time, he didn't care. He could feel her pulse, feel her skin thumping as the blood pumped beneath it.

He struggled to keep his weight off her, his arms were shaking, still around her waist… he was still inside her. Words itched at his tongue, caught in his throat…

Her hands touched his face, her lips found his. "I'm glad you didn't give up on me." She whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't… I didn't forgive you sooner." Her voice wavered, cracked.

He kissed her, her lips, her nose, her cheeks. "I'm glad you didn't tell me to fuck off." He grinned, pressing his lips to her hair, her neck.

"You sang to me…" her voice was soft. He kissed her cheeks, and his lips came away wet, salty. Tears.

"Are you OK?" he asked, pulling back a little to look at her, as best he could in the dark room.

She nodded, sniffed. "Sorry… I… I haven't, uh, done this before…" she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't know…" she gasped "I don't know why…"

He kissed her. "It's OK…"

"It's… it was just… so…" she hiccupped. "Did you feel that too?"

He didn't even need to ask what she meant… he had felt it, an ache, a pulling… he could understand why she was crying, he almost felt like he could tear up, too. "I felt it…" he smiled.

"You sang to me…" she repeated. She sounded amazed.

Arnold slid out of her, slid over her thigh, lay next to her. He put his hand on her hip, rolled her towards him. "Yeah… I hope I didn't embarrass you."

She shook her head. "No… nothing like that." She sighed. "It just made me sad… you confused me."

He kissed her. "I'm sorry… I don't know how to show you how sorry I am… I know… I _know _how mean I was." He sighed. "I… I know the whole song thing was corny, but I chose the songs carefully. I knew you wouldn't talk to me, so I tried to say as much as I could with them…" his voice trailed off.

"I'm talking to you now…" she whispered.

He smiled. "Yeah… you are." He kissed her. "What do you want me to say?"

She wriggled against him, pressed her face into his shoulder. "You feel good."

He chuckled "You _do _feel good."

Her ribs jumped as she laughed. "Ha ha… very funny." Her thigh climbed up his, their skin rubbing together, catching. "What were the songs meant to say?"

_That I love you. _"That I'm sorry."

"Just that?" She kissed his chest.

_Does she know? What does she want me to say? I love you… _"I missed you."

She pressed herself harder against him. He teased the skin of her back, brushing his fingertips up and down her spine, barely touching her skin. She shivered, moaned. "Nothing else?"

He swallowed, nervous. He screwed his eyes shut… if he was wrong about this… "You want me to say it out loud?" His voice croaked from his throat.

She nodded, her hair tickled his chin. She raised her mouth to his. "If it's the truth… tell me." Her breath brushed his lips.

His heart thudded against his ribs. _I love you. _"I love you."

Her mouth slid against his. "You love me?" She moaned in question, her thigh came higher up his thigh, tugged him close. It had only been a minute or two, but he started stiffening again.

"I love you…"

His hands explored her, made her gasp. He kissed her all over, from her painted toes, to the palms of her hands… He told her she was beautiful, that he was sorry for hurting her, that he loved her… He discovered her, how she smelt different all over, how she giggled when he stroked the soft skin behind her knee…

He learned her, memorised her, before he slid into her. She sighed when he pressed inside of her, wrapping her arms around his neck, she raised her hips to meet him, kissed him, stroked his face. "I love you too." She whispered.

It was close to dawn by the time they fell asleep, the sheets in a tangle around their feet, the room growing slightly less dim. Her back curled into his chest, her head on his arm, their fingers twined together.

Just before he drifted off, he thought back to the _big love _that Emma had described… the love that she was holding out for. He breathed in the smell of Helga's hair, the skin of her neck… he was nervous, terrified… everything about her scared him, shook him. But now that he was curled up with her, the smell of their sex permeating his skin… he wanted nothing else. He had his _big love…_

* * *

><p><em>Hey guys. No this isn't the end, as has been asked by a few people.<em>

_(and Lunagirl, it's above the knee) :)_


	19. Chapter 19

She was all warm and heavy and soft… curled up next to him when he woke up. She was still asleep, her arm tucked up under her pillow and her knees pulled up.

He touched her, gently. He didn't want to wake her. He shuffled back from her a bit, letting his eyes drink her in. She was pale, the skin of her neck a little tanned, but fading quickly down her back to a smooth, milky white.

Three small moles dotted up her left shoulder blade, like a constellation. Her ribs sat close under her skin, showing as shallow ridges beneath her flesh. Her waist cinched as she lay on her side, but her hip flared upward, her ass accentuated by the way her thighs were pulled forward.

A black tattoo curved around her hip. He hefted himself up a little to look at it… he hadn't seen it before. A black cat stood on one leg, tugging bright orange boots onto it it's feet… paws… he smiled. _Never figured Helga for the fairy tale type. _He touched it, put his index finger onto the cat's foot and followed it up to its ears. She murmured, shifted at his touch.

"Good morning." Her voice was soft, husky. She rolled over to face him.

"Morning." He whispered back, a lump in the back of his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe. He raked his eyes down her, her stomach, her pale thighs, her dark curls, her breasts, her nipples soft and pink. He swallowed.

Dark circles nestled under her eyes, although some of that may have been make-up. Her irises were a shining, clear blue. She stared up at him, peaceful, if a little shy. "Sleep well?" a smile curled up one side of her mouth. He found himself edging closer to her, moving to take her in his arms, and his head bent to kiss her.

"Waking up was better." He murmured. She giggled, snuggled up into his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "Are you OK?" he asked, a strange _morning-after _fear niggling at him. What if she regretted the night before? What if the _I love you _stuff was only heat of the moment for her?

She nodded, pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat. Glancing up at him, her big blue eyes sending a kick to his stomach, she smiled. "Better than…" she sighed a little. "We can't do that again though…"

"Uh…" he didn't know what to say. _We can't do that again? What the hell? _Did she mean the sex? What else _could_ she mean?

He must have had a particularly confused or angry look on his face, because she stopped moving and stared at him, her forehead creasing… before she laughed. "Shit, sorry…" she grinned. "I meant… uh… I mean…" her cheeks flushed. "We didn't, uh, _use anything."_

He felt relief before he realised what she was saying. _Oh, shit. _"I didn't even think of that." He said slowly, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. _How could I be so thoughtless?_

She blushed. "Me neither…" she sighed.

"I'm, uh… you know…" he waved a hand downwards. "Clean bill of health 'n all…" He could feel his cheeks burning.

She giggled. "Yeah, I figured, Arnold… you seem like the type to be fastidious in your sexual health." She grinned. "Me too, just in case you were wondering." She sighed again. "I was more kinda worried about, uh, rugrats."

_Kids. _Logic flew out of his head as he suddenly pictured her all round and plump… He smiled. "I dunno… we'd make pretty good looking children."

She laughed. "Pretty _Hitler Youth _looking kids, you mean!" Her eyes sparkled.

He smiled back… his heart dropping a little as he came back to reality. "So, uh, what's the procedure? I mean… what do you wanna do?" He ran his hands up and down her back, his breath hitching when she closed her eyes, shuddered a little, smiling with pleasure.

"Uh… um…" she mumbled. "I dunno. I suppose just waiting to see what happens is a stupid thing to do, huh?" Her eyes were still closed, her cheeks flushing darker.

"Probably." He agreed. _Although… if you _did _get pregnant, I would take care of you. _

She sighed… so many sighs in such a short time. "I suppose I'll go to the pharmacy and get that morning-after-pill thing."

She drew her closer. "Can I come with you? Pay for it or something?"

She leaned her cheek against his chest. "I don't think there'll be time. Phoebe and I are flying out at two."

He stroked the back of her neck. "Back to Seattle?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Massachusetts." A little flip of anxiety gripped his stomach.

"You're not coming home?" He tried to keep the petulance out of his voice. He didn't want to crowd her… but he had only just got her, he didn't want to let her go yet, not even for a night.

She shrugged. "For a week. I… I have an interview at MIT."

He didn't know what to say.

She sighed. "I don't even know if I'll get the job…" she said softly.

"Teaching?" he choked out. She nodded. His insides twisted. Teaching at MIT would be amazing… he couldn't ask her not to go. "That's awesome, Helga… really." She looked up at him, her face unreadable. "Really." He repeated.

"What is this, with us?" she asked softly. Her eyes large and soft and… vulnerable. His heart clenched, he loved her so much it hurt. He could feel it, wrenching at his insides, like a sickness.

He stroked her face. "Whatever you want." He said, truthfully. "I meant… I meant it, last night…" he swallowed, a tight kinda feeling pressing on his chest, "…that I love you." He gasped the words out, scared that in the light of day, she wouldn't want to hear it.

But she smiled. "I love you too…" she paused, "… are we… uh… _together?"_

He grinned. "You want me to ask you, formally?" She nodded, smiling. He tried to arrange his face into a suitably serious expression… "Helga G. Pataki… would you do me the honour of being my _girlfriend."_

She chuckled, and kissed him. "Why, Shortman, I thought you'd never ask."

_So… now she's my girlfriend. _He gazed at her. He had her… she was there, in his arms. He wanted to grab her, to squeeze her as hard as he could. A great bubble of excitement, of… _happiness_ threatened to burst him apart. "Fuck I love you." He groaned as he pressed his lips to hers. She chuckled again, pressing her chest up against his.

He could feel her smiling. "You have no idea…" she murmured against his mouth "… how long I have wanted to hear you say that."

He closed his arms tighter around her ribs. "About twenty two years?" He joked… they _had_ known each other since they were three, after all.

"About that, yeah." She laughed. Her mouth caught his again. Her hips rode up against his… he wanted her. He _wanted _her… his hands came down to her waist, her hips, and pulled her hard against him…

… when there was a knock at the door.

Arnold groaned. "No way." He sighed. It _had _to be Gerald.

Sure enough, Gerald's voice came muffled through the door_. "Wakey Wakey Arnold!" _a pause_ "You coming to breakfast?"_

Helga laughed. "Shit… that's right…" there was a big breakfast thing being put on for the wedding guests… She sighed, untangled herself from Arnold's arms.

"_Arrrrr-nooooold!" _Gerald almost sang… he sounded _happy. _After spending the night with Phoebe, he was probably ecstatic.

"Yeah… uh, gimme a sec!" Arnold called, before whispering to Helga, watching futilely as she pulled her leggings on "We could ditch the breakfast?"

She giggled, and whispered back, "I'll see you down there… I won't just leave without saying goodbye, I promise." She dropped her sweatshirt down over her head and leaned over the bed to kiss him. "Don't look so sad!" she kissed him again. "Watch this."

She strode across the room, just as Gerald was moaning through the door. _"C'mon man… open up!"_

She flung the door open. "Morning, Johanssen!" She grinned.

Gerald's face was priceless, his mouth slack, his eyes wide. His gaze turned from Helga, standing there with her hair all messy, to where Arnold was half-sitting-up in bed, the sheets only just covering his waist… and he broke into a grin.

"Morning, Pataki." He beamed. "and _good morning Arnold!" _

Helga laughed and turned quickly to blow a kiss to Arnold, before trotting off, bare-footed, down the corridor.

Gerald watched her leave, his grin threatening to bust his face in half, until he couldn't see her anymore, when he stepped into the room and closed the door. "Fucking _AWESOME!" _He laughed. "You guys _finally _did it?"

Arnold just nodded, kinda… overwhelmed. He wasn't sure he wanted everyone else to know just yet… he was still getting used to the idea himself.

Gerald flopped down on the bed next to him. "Was it everything you _dreamed _it would be?" He was taking the piss, but Arnold couldn't help cracking a smile.

He sighed. "Better…" he grinned, cutting Gerald off before he could say anything else. "But don't go flapping your mouth to everyone about it, OK?"

Gerald sighed. "Fiiiiiiiine…" he paused. "So… you guys, like, _together?"_

Arnold laughed. "Yeah, man…" he was grinning. "I asked her out n' everything."

"That's fucking _awesome, _man… awesome." He clapped Arnold on the back. "I'll buy you a drink to celebrate.

"It's, like nine in the morning or something." Arnold could feel himself blushing.

"Who gives a fuck?" Gerald was grinning from ear to ear. "We gotta _celebrate_!"

… … … … … … …

"I'm going to miss you." She breathed against his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck.

She was about to board her plane. Phoebe and Gerald were a few yards away, whispering furtive goodbyes.

"Don't go, then." Arnold kissed her shoulder, his fingers were twined around her back. His stomach was twisted in knots. _Please come back. _

She giggled. "It's tempting." She sighed. "I… it seems like bad timing…" her voice was soft.

"It _is _bad timing." He agreed, nodding solemnly. "You should obviously give your ticket to Gerald and come back home with me." He smiled to let her know he was joking… kind of.

She raised an eyebrow. "I've cleared a weeks worth of work for this, though… how on _earth _would I spend all of that free time?" in a slight, delicate motion, she pressed her hips forward.

He grimaced. Public boners… great… but that wicked smile on her face was worth it. "We _were _rudely interrupted this morning…" he pushed back, revelling in how her eyes closed, her breath huffed through her open lips.

"Come on Helga, we're boarding." Phoebe's soft voice intruded into their bubble.

Helga made a strangled sort of noise. "I promise… when I get back…" she shifted her hips again before pressing her mouth to his.

She held his hand as they walked to the gate, squeezing his fingers between hers when she caught him staring at her. He didn't like it… he didn't like this weird, fearful feeling he had, like she was about to be snatched away from him…

She let him go so he could give Phoebe a quick hug goodbye, before throwing her arms around his neck one last time and mashing her face to his in a hard, insistent kiss. "I love you." She breathed, her cheeks growing pink.

He couldn't not smile at that. "I love you too." He held her face in his hands. "Come back to me?"

She grinned, her teeth bumping against his lips as she chuckled a low, wry laugh. "Don't I always?" She kissed him again, peeled herself away from him, snatched up her bag from where she had dumped it on the ground and strode off after Phoebe, looking back to smile shyly and wave as she rounded a corner, out of sight.

_Don't I always? _Now what did she mean by that?


	20. Chapter 20

"My man's got _play." _Gerald laughed, his feet up on the balcony railing, a beer in his hand.

Arnold shook his head, his brain feeling blurry. "Nah man… nah…" he grinned "She's so pretty though. She's all, like… I dunno. She's like a pixie or something."

Gerald threw his head back and laughed. Flinging his arm into the air, he crowed. "To Arnold Shortman, who's getting the next round!"

Arnold wobbled on his feet… foot? Feet… he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was _pissed. _"Hey… uh… two of them beers with the elephants on… please." He remembered his manners just in time, grinning at the tattooed bartender. She rolled her eyes at him.

"You two are fucking awful." She groaned. "I'll bring them out in a second… with some _water_…" She paused as she added the round to their tab. "You should probably eat something."

"Rustle us up some _food _then!" Arnold waved his hand dismissively.

The girl smiled… Arnold had forgotten her name, but she had always been so nice to him, before his accident. He hadn't seen her since then… He leaned against the bar. "Wanna come have a drink with us?"

"No thanks, Drunky… and keep yourself in check, or I'll cut you off."

He saluted. "Message received, sir!" He turned and stalked, unsteadily, back to their table.

…

That was the last thing he could remember when he woke up the next day, his head thumping. His skin was sweaty, sticking to Gerald's leather sofa. As soon as he sat up, his stomach started to churn.

"Hnnnnggurrgh." He groaned. "My _head_." He looked around for his leg… it was lying beneath the coffee table… which was littered with empty beer bottles, a mass of scattered rolling papers and pizza crusts.

"Have I been sucking nails?" Arnold turned his head, slowly, to see Gerald leaning against his bedroom doorframe, sans pants, but still in his shirt, boxers and socks, he looked almost green. "I feel like I've been sucking on iron nails or something…" He groaned. "I haven't been this hung over in ages."

Arnold stared at his leg, lying just a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. No way could he kneel down… he'd vomit on the carpet.

"What the fuck happened?" He croaked eventually.

"We celebrated." Gerald tried to grin, but it looked more like a grimace. "I gotta spew." He hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Arnold tried to ignore the sounds of retching… he had a sinking feeling he'd be following suit soon… his stomach was roiling. He hopped on one leg to the kitchen, downed a glass of water, and leaned his face on the cold bench, trying to concentrate on breathing, trying to ignore how much he wanted to puke.

He was still like that when Gerald came back out.

"I feel _so _much better… go have a chunder, man… you won't regret it!" He even sounded happier.

"Did I do awful things?" Arnold asked, terrified that the half-formed memories that floated around his head were real.

"Uh… define awful?" Gerald sounded cagey.

"Oh god." Arnold groaned.

Gerald, the bastard, chuckled. "I never thought I'd see you, of all people, drunk calling chicks… it was like you were a different person."

"You are such an asshole." Arnold's face had warmed the little section of bench he was leaning on. He wanted to move, but was too afraid he'd throw up.

"Aw Shortman… I know that's the drink talking, not you." Gerald chuckled again, then grimaced at the look on Arnold's face. "Dude, _sink!"_

Gerald was right, he _did _feel better after a purge… but he still felt like shit. And it wasn't helping that his best friend was doubled up with laughter, hooting as they slowly pieced together the previous night.

"Where the _fuck _is my phone?" Arnold was tugging the cushions off the sofa, searching for his mobile, trying to ignore the thudding in his head when he bent over.

"Hang on, I'll ring it."

It was _inside _a pizza box, a chunk of mushroom stuck to the screen with cold cheese… gross.

He wiped it off with a napkin and read the two new messages that were waiting for him.

Helga – _You're very sweet, but still an idiot :D You're so going to regret that in the morning. Sleep well, my little drunkard._

Oh god… what had he done? That text was from after two in the morning… he bit the inside of his cheek. Goddamn it! He _knew _that going out to _celebrate _their sexual conquests had been a bad idea… He clicked to the next message.

Helga – _Good morning sunshine! Hope you're not TOO hung over :)_

He smiled at that, well… he stopped frowning so much. At least she was still talking to him. The message was hours old, he tapped out a reply.

Arnold – _I have the feeling I should be mortified with myself… but I'm too scared to check my sent messages. Was it really awful?_

He clicked _send_, then instantly started worrying… was that message too flippant? Should he be apologising? Grovelling even? He had told the truth though, he _was _too scared to check his sent messages… his call log told him he had called her twice… once in the evening for about fifteen minutes, and once in the middle of the night for half an hour. Jesus…

"Stop moping." Gerald was still laughing. "I called Phoebe too… there's some seriously funny shit in here…" he was grinning at his own phone. "You remember we started calling you Lieutenant Dan?"

OK… that _was _kinda funny… "Does that make you Forrest?"

He was rewarded with a pillow in the face. "Go have a shower, Dan… you stink."

They were out on the street when Arnold's phone buzzed in the pocket of his borrowed jeans. Gerald led him impatiently to a local café while Arnold fumbled with the little buttons, impatient –if nervous- to read Helga's reply.

Helga – _Not too awful… although I have had more romantic proposals._

What. the. hell? "Oh no." He moaned, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to read and re-read the message.

"Hey!" a guy behind him snarled, angry at the sudden stop… but Arnold didn't even hear him. Gerald stopped, sighing.

"Bad news?"

"I asked her to marry me…" he groaned. _How could I be so, SO stupid?_ His stomach roiled.

To his credit, Gerald at least _tried _to stop the grin that spread across his face. "Hey, yeah… I remember that now." He managed to get his grin under control, and put on a concerned face. "Hey, c'mon man. We'll get some food in you, then give her a call, huh?"

Arnold wasn't fooled, Gerald was starving and just wanted to hurry up… but it was a good idea. He was so hungry and so dehydrated that he couldn't think straight…

Arnold _– I'll give you a call soon? I owe you an apology._

She replied within seconds.

Helga – _Don't stress out, Shortman. Talk to you soon. X_

Arnold_ – X_

OK… so it wasn't dire… she probably just thought he was an idiot… actually, she did think he was idiot, she told him so. But she didn't hate him. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the end of the world. He gathered up his frayed-beer soaked nerves and forced down the _massive _breakfast Gerald ordered for him.

"So… you two going to have kids straight away, or travel a bit first?" Gerald was grinning, the twat.

"Shut up…" _I have had more romantic proposals… _the thought was grating on him. Had she been engaged before?

Gerald sighed. "Call her already, will you? Maybe you'll cheer the fuck up." He rolled his eyes before pointedly turning his attention to his phone…

OK.

He found a relatively private spot in the café's courtyard, and called Helga's phone before he chickened out… he had no experience with this sort of thing, he had _never _humiliated himself while drunk before… not romantically, anyway. He did have to do the pant-around-the-ankles walk when he suffered an abysmal loss in pool once… but that was just with the guys.

"_Why hello, lover._"

_She even _sounds _beautiful. _His heart was in his throat. "Hi…"

Even through the phone, her laugh made his stomach flip. "_How are you feeling this morning?"_

"Decidedly disgraced… and pretty hung-over." he admitted with a sigh. "Look, Helga, I'm sorry about last night, Gerald and I were, uh…"

"_Celebrating…_" she giggled on the other end of the line. "_You told me _all _about it…" _He went to apologise some more, but she cut him off. "_It's fine, Arnold, I promise. You were very sweet… drunk and rambling, sure, but nothing too bad." _She paused, giggled again. "_You were very complimentary… and quite, uh, graphic about how you feel about me?"_

"Graphic?" He frowned. Half relieved that she wasn't angry, and wanting to drop it, but half wanting to know what he had said to her…

She dropped her voice to a whisper, "_I can't really repeat anything here, I'm in a shoe store…"_

For what felt like the fiftieth time that morning, he let out an agonised groan. "What did I _say _to you? This is mortifying!"

There was a soft, sympathetic tutting… "_Hold on…_" he could hear the scuffle of movement, Phoebe's soft little voice, then the background noise on the call changed, grew louder. "_Ok, I'm outside…" _she sighed. "_Please don't stress… I don't want you to freak out again, Ok? Not over something so stupid._"

He stopped, horrified at the distress that was thick in her voice. Was she scared that he'd push her away again? She was right… she was telling him it was all Ok, and he wasn't listening… it wasn't fair. "Sorry… I just hate not being able to remember… are you sure I didn't say anything too bad?"

She laughed again. "_You said plenty_ bad…" she was teasing him, "_though some of it sounded pretty fun." _

"Fun enough that you couldn't talk about it in a shoe shop?"

"Far _too risqué for Phoebe's poor ears…"_ Then tension was gone from her voice, and the soft suggestion that replaced it tugged at him. "_You know Gerald was just as bad, right?"_

"What did _he_ do?" Well, at least they were both drunken morons.

"_I'm sure you'll find out."_

"Did I really, uh, propose to you?"He asked in a rush, needing to know at least this one thing.

"_Don't worry, Shortman, I'm not going to hold you to it… I said no, anyways._" She was laughing at him again.

"Why?"

There was a little pause. "_Why did I say no?"_

"Yeah…"

"_Well, what I actually said was to ask me again when you were sober…" _There was a steel edge to her voice, something kinda cold. He wondered what it meant… was it a challenge? Or was it disapproval.

"Hmm, good to know." He grinned. "So, shoe shopping, huh?"

More relieved chuckles. "_Yeah, I want a pair of Doc boots…_"

He was smiling by the time he made his way back to Gerald, comforted by Helga's promises to relay his drunken faux-pas to him at a later date, and her hushed, shy _I love you_'s when they said their goodbyes…

"Can I ask you something?" Gerald's question broke Arnold's concentration on the article he was reading. He slapped the magazine shut.

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Ignoring Arnold's teasing, Gerald put on his stern face to ask: "Is there anything, apart from Pataki, that'd keep you here?"

Arnold frowned. Where was this going? "You mean, in Seattle?" Gerald nodded. "Uh… well, no, I suppose not. I mean… My job's shit, and now that I've got my leg pretty much sorted…" he shrugged, "it's just you n' Helga, really."

"Thought as much…" His grin returned. "Wanna move to Massachusetts?"


	21. Chapter 21

**FAIR WARNING**

**This got dirtier than I expected. It was REALLY dirty for a while, but I took that out and re-wrote the end.**

**So... lemon warning. **

* * *

><p><em>Move to Massachusetts? <em>

Could he really do it? He'd been living in Seattle for years now… he was comfortable there… but then, he wouldn't really have anyone if Gerald and Helga both moved away, would he?

Well, he'd have Emma… maybe… kind of…

Maybe he could move back to Hillwood, take the Sunset Arms back over, just be closer to _her_, close enough to visit…

He was just confusing himself, _thinking _too much. He'd been debating the issue with himself for the past week, but still had no idea what to do, or how to broach it with Helga… He was nervous, butterflies rumbling round in his stomach as he checked his phone for the tenth time in the past five minutes.

He was waiting… waiting for the soft knocking at his door, waiting to see his girlfriend for the first time since he had kissed her goodbye at the airport.

He lay on the sofa, his hands behind his head, trying to guess where she was at that moment. Her flight had come in over three hours ago, but Olga had picked her up, taking them out to dinner before she dropped her little sister off at her _new boyfriend's _house.

Helga had giggled when she had told Arnold that. "_Sorry sweetheart, but she _really _wants to know all the gossip, and to see the photos from the wedding, and I _did_ miss her birthday last week… I'll be over as soon as she lets me… I miss you…" _Her voice had softened, dropping to a hushed whisper. "_I want to see you…"_

Just the memory of that, of her breathy voice and their whispered, shy confessions, had his butterflies whipped into a frenzy. He stood up, restless, and paced about the room. What was taking her so long?

He did a circuit around the house, making sure – _again – _that everything was in order. Clean sheets, vacuumed carpet… he'd left the windows open to air the place out, and stocked up the fridge with cheese and wine and fruit and everything they needed to shut themselves off from the world for a weekend.

He'd bought two new toothbrushes, and left one (the pink one) in it's wrapping on the bathroom counter. He'd put new, scented soap in the sparkling clean shower. He'd dusted and wiped and scrubbed… in fact, the only messy part of the house was the easel he'd set up in a corner of the lounge, and the pile of charcoals on the coffee table.

Tell-tale charcoal dust stained the newspaper he'd laid under the easel, despite the blank paper clipped to the top of the wooden frame. He'd wanted to clean that up, too, but had been on such a roll that he was scared to pack his things up, lest he jinx himself. He was _finally _over his artist's block.

He knew who he had to thank for that… A rigid folder leaned against the wall behind the easel, packed to burst with sketches. He _had _her. The turn of her shoulders, the subtle curve to the inside of her arm, how the left side of her upper lip was slightly more full than the right, how she stood with her weight on her right leg, her hip raised. He captured her feet, how her little toe tucked slightly underneath her fourth. He caught the angles of her hips, the hollow of her navel, the long line of her neck. Her _eyes_…

He sighed happily, standing still in front of his easel, suddenly calm. It felt good to work again, even if it wasn't anything he could sell… it felt good to put charcoal to paper and produce something that he wanted to look at.

He wanted to keep working. Flexing his hand, he considered his fingers. He'd only just managed to get the charcoal dust out from under his fingernails, and he didn't want to get caught out with dirty hands if Helga wanted him to…

_Knock knock_

His butterflies burst back into life. _She's here! _He was at the front door in an instant, taking half a second to smooth back his hair before grasping the handle and turning…

"Finally." She grinned, before dropping her bags and falling heavily against him.

He laughed, catching her, stumbling a little under her weight as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms snaked around his neck, her back arched to press her chest against his. Eventually she pulled away, making him groan in protest, his cock already responding to her closeness, his gaze raking over her sweet, upturned face.

She had dark circles under her eyes, messy hair, and crumpled clothes. He raised a hand to her face, ran his thumb up her cheek. "Hi."

She smiled, blushed. "Hi…" She nudged herself forward, pressing harder against him, forcing him to take a step backwards, reminding him that they were still just standing in his doorway.

"You're here." He murmured, his eyes still taking in the details of her face, the fine hairs of her eyebrows, how her eyelashes faded to blonde at the ends…

She turned her face away, nuzzled into his shoulder, sighed heavily as she let herself sag against him. "I am… and I must say, Mr Shortman… I'm glad to be back."

He grinned. This was what he wanted, her, in his arms, all sweet and soft. His butterflies were barely fluttering, his skin was warm… the feeling of restless anxiety was gone. "Can I get you anything?"

She pressed a kiss to his neck, nuzzling against him. "A towel?"

"A towel?" He repeated stupidly, making her giggle.

"Yeah… I was on a six hour flight, I _desperately _want a shower."

_Showering Helga. _His brain shorted out. He'd obviously thought about that when he'd bought the fancy soap… but now that she was here, the picture of her under the water, all slick and clean, made his cock twitch.

"Yes." He managed to croak. "I think we can manage that."

She giggled again, and they extracted themselves from their embrace to pick up her bags and heft them into the apartment.

"You're drawing!?" She gasped when she spied the easel, dashing over to scrutinise the blank paper, craning her neck to look up at him when he came up behind her.

"mmm, hmmm." He mumbled, kissing the back of neck, following that sweeping line that he loved so much.

She hummed, dropping her head to facilitate his kisses. "Can I see them?"

He faltered. "Later? I'm still, uh, gathering courage…"

She chuckled, "OK, fair enough." She wriggled against him. "Shower?"

He nodded, feeling a little out of his depth, holding himself back from what he really wanted to do… which was to throw her down on the sofa and bury himself in her. "Of course… there's a clean towel in there already."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're not joining me?"

He grimaced, he had dreaded this. Despite everything, he was still scared of her seeing him. He knew it was stupid, they'd touched each other all over, he'd been _inside _her, for chrissakes… but he still didn't want to be bared to her like that, in the stark, white light of the bathroom, with nothing to hide behind.

She stepped back, a half-smile on her soft lips. He watched, speechless, as she stripped off. She peeled off her top, kicked off her shoes. She took an agonisingly long time to un-button her black pants. She cocked her head to the side as she reached behind her back to un-clip her bra, and smiled shyly at him when she hooked her fingers into her underwear and drew them down her legs, leaving them puddled on his living room carpet.

She was glorious, and tempting, and… fuckshitstack… she was amazing. Her skin flared pink where her underwear had dug into her, the curls at the apex of her thighs were light brown, but looked darker against her pale skin. He watched as her soft nipples stiffened in the cool air, and she watched him watch her, that half-smile still on her lips.

"I'm going to have a shower…" She breathed, her cheeks growing pink as he gazed at her. "… with the lights _off_."

He wanted to touch her, he _itched _to touch her. She was just a foot or two away, all that _flesh_… he remembered how it felt, how she smelt, the taste of her… he nodded dumbly.

"You know where I am if you want me." Her smile deepened, her eyes twinkling. His cock twitched again. She knew _exactly _what she did to him, and when she turned to walk off to the bathroom, not a trace of self-consciousness showing in the swing of her naked hips, he made up his mind… or, rather, his dick decided for him.

He went stumbling after her. "Hold up."

…

She felt even better than he remembered.

"Jesusfuck, ohmygod, Baby… fuck… fuuck." She was swearing like he'd never heard before, a stream of soft cusses from between her clenched teeth. She was shaking, her whole body quivering as he worked his fingers inside her.

She bit him. "Shit!" He barked, jumping at the sudden pain in his shoulder.

"Sorry." She gasped, before her thighs juddered, rattling the stool they were straddled over.

She'd giggled when she found it, his cripple stool, but she wasn't giggling now. She was spread over his lap, her thighs forced up, wide, by the little padded arm rests, so he had full access to her. He used to hate it, but now he _loved _that chair. She was forced to hold on to him, to clutch at him while he played with her, his free hand cupping her ass to help stop her sliding off onto the floor.

He'd done kinkier stuff than fucking on a seat in the dark before, but it had never _felt _as dirty as this. He'd never been this turned on, never been this hard, and when her slick, soapy hand grasped him, she said as much.

"Fuck, Babe, you're so fucking hard."

It wasn't subtle, or poetic, but it made him throb.

"I want you so bad." He gasped, bending forward to kiss her, fumbling for her mouth in the dark.

"You have me." She whimpered back, rocking her hips to emphasise her point.

"I want to make you come." He groaned.

"Say that again." Her voice was breathless, closer to his ear than he expected.

"I wanna make you come." He stated again. "I don't want you to touch yourself, I just want it to be me, my fingers, that make you finish." He found her mouth, kissed her. He'd never told a girl that before… although he _liked _it when they took charge of themselves, when they touched themselves (like how she had at the hotel)… he needed to make amends for it, needed to prove to himself that he could make the girl climax too… it was a _thing_… probably borne of insecurity… but Helga didn't seem to be complaining.

She rolled her hips again, groaning against his mouth. "Tell me you want to fuck me." She moaned.

He smiled. So… Helga liked talking. "Fuck yes I want to fuck you. I haven't thought about anything else for the past week." He bore his thumb down harder, revelling in her steady stream of whispered swearing. "Do you have any idea how fucking _good _it felt to be inside you? You are so fucking warm, and _so _wet. You have the softest, sweetest, tightest little pussy I've ever felt…"

"Hnnnnng." She shuddered, her hips rocking back and forth, the seat squeaking slightly beneath them. He could feel her tightening, her thighs tensing. He grinned… she was close.

"Will you fuck me tonight, Baby?" He whispered, his pulse hitching when she whined in reply. "Will you bounce up and down on me till I come inside you?"

She squealed at that, her entire body shaking as he pushed her closer to orgasm. "You want me to come inside you?" He asked, "I want to come in you… in your pussy, in your mouth… I want…"

"Fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-ck" She wailed, her thighs clenching, her back arching as she dug her nails into his back. He held on to her, bracing his arm to keep her on his lap as she quaked in climax.

He felt her swell around his fingers, marvelled at how responsive she was, how soft she was. Gradually, he tempered the pressure of his thumb, easing off until she was laying panting on his chest, her heart beating so hard he could feel it against his ribs.

"You OK sweetheart?" He asked, Stroking her hair with his now-free hand, still holding her up with the other.

"Hmmmm." She murmured. "Holy shit."

He chuckled, giving her more time to recover, even though his legs were starting to go to sleep, and his arm was beginning to ache. He didn't want to upset her afterglow.

She wriggled, pulled herself up to press her mouth to his, then raised her knees. "Where are you going?" He asked as she slid off him, her thighs still shaking.

It was her turn to chuckle. She rubbed her palm against his cock, and he could _hear _the grin in her voice as she moved to kneel between his legs.

"You said you want to come in my mouth…"


End file.
